


After All

by LucySpencer



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst with a Happy Ending, Babies, Canon-Typical Violence, Dreams and Nightmares, Epilogue, F/M, Families of Choice, I Tried, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Not What It Looks Like, POV Second Person, Pregnancy, Thanksgiving, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-06 10:00:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 61,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4217349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucySpencer/pseuds/LucySpencer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Olivia's on the road to getting her (mostly) happy ending with The Boyfriend, Noah, and Little Bean, with special guest star Nick. Can be read as an epilogue to Those Graces or as an AU one-shot. Your enjoyment will be greatly enhanced if you read the author's notes first!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Author’s notes: please read me-** Hello! First off, if you’re wondering about Those Graces, expect an update maybe early next week. Now with that out of the way...this is not TG- but it’s set in TGverse and it can be read as an epilogue. However, you don’t have to have read TG to understand this...and if you *have* read TG but think this really sucks, just consider it an AU :D 
> 
> This fic is a bit weird because in order not to spoil the end of TG, Olivia’s significant other is known only as The Boyfriend. This is on purpose. For one thing, while I’ve had an endgame for TG in my head since the beginning, I’m not 100% certain that I won’t change my mind. Also, I promised a few people on twitter that I would do this in Choose Your Own Adventure style. So if you ship EO, I want you to picture elliot. If you ship bensidy, I want you to picture Brian. Basically I want everyone to be happy. I pictured both of them at different times while I was writing this so…
> 
> Warning for violent references in a dream (the dream is set in italics). Text messages are displayed _[like this]_. This is set post-Surrendering Noah, but there will still be plenty of hipster!Nick and bensaro friendship for all. Title and quotes from _after all_ by Dar Williams. Other quotes from _walk on_ and _beautiful day_ by U2, _farewell to the old me_ and _your fire, your soul_ by dar williams, _putting the damage on_ by tori amos, and _almost home_ by mary chapin carpenter.Thank you to everyone who pushed me to write this- you know who you are!
> 
> I’d love to hear what you think, either here or you can find me on twitter at lucythespencer. New friends are fun!

_{and love is not the easy thing_  
the only baggage you can bring is  
all that you can’t leave behind} 

Like most things in your life, you never expected it to happen. (At least, not the way it did.)

After all, it'd barely been eight weeks since you and The Boyfriend officially moved into your new apartment together. At the time, your main reason for moving had been that the old place just didn't have enough room for two adults and a toddler who seemed to be accumulating new toys by the minute. You put it off for as long as humanly possible, scared to acknowledge that while The Boyfriend technically still had his own apartment- for all intents and purposes, there were three people living there. Moving somewhere new with him meant letting go of the safety net; meant not being able to kick him out in the middle of the night when things got rough, as few and far between as those nights had been lately. You had learned the hard way before about the difficulty in making a clean break with someone when their name was still next to yours on the lease, but this time there was even less room for you to fuck things up. Now you had Noah to think about.

And maybe it was Noah who gave you the final push you needed to do it, to blurt it out in between failed attempts to keep your active toddler from getting Chinese noodles stuck in his hair. "So, uh. I was thinking about moving to a bigger place and...I guess Noah and I were hoping you'd come with us?"

He said yes. No hesitation.

(Noah celebrated by throwing his sippy cup across the room.)

You didn't think you'd break down in tears as you took one last look around the empty apartment on moving day, but you did. (In retrospect, you were just getting a preview of pregnancy hormones to come). So much had happened in such a tiny space over the last 22 months. You moved in hoping that things would change for you, and they sure as hell did, albeit not always in the way you would've liked them to. As you walked out the door for the last time, you weren't thinking about how you wouldn't change a thing or how it was all worth it to get to this point, because none of those bullshit cliches were true. There's a million and one things you'd change and honestly, a lot of things you didn't have to or shouldn't have had to go through, but you brought them on yourself. 

"I can't expect anyone else to give me a chance until they've seen I can let go of the past," you told Amanda once, and letting go isn't something you've been entirely successful at. But you're lucky, luckier than you deserve, to have someone willing to give you a(nother) chance in the meanwhile. 

Your eyes meet The Boyfriend's and he gives you a little smile of understanding, graciously paying no mind to the tears running down your cheeks. "We're getting restless, Mom," he says instead, scooping up a laughing Noah as he runs past and hoisting him onto his shoulders. "You ready?" 

Yes. No. "That's a big question."

He leans over and kisses your forehead, pulling back just in time to keep Noah from grabbing your glasses right off your face. "We've got better things ahead of us," he promises, and you joke that you're going to hold him to that, and the door clicks shut behind you for the last time.

_{and I used to think that things were meant to be}_

You never expected it to happen. (At least, not right then.)

After all, you were 47 (and a half) years old. You and The Boyfriend had talked about a sibling for Noah, and even just a vague conversation about having another baby made you both feel very, very tired, but you knew time wasn't on your side and so you went ahead and made an appointment with a fertility specialist. An appointment which you had to cancel in favor of an urgent visit to the pediatrician when Noah got bronchitis. You rescheduled two weeks later, only to have Noah run headfirst into the corner of the kitchen counter just as you were about to leave. Needless to say, you didn't make it to that appointment either.

"Maybe it's a sign," you mused aloud that night once you were home from the ER, cradling a bandaged and stitched up little boy on your lap. You both had started to have doubts about if you were doing the right thing, if you should take the adoption route again instead of expending so much time, money, and energy on a biological child that might never come to be. As much as you used to want the full pregnancy 'experience' and as romantic of a notion as it was to imagine a child whose features were equal parts yours and his, it wasn't something you felt like you'd be incomplete without anymore. In any case, it'd been an exhausting day topping off an exhausting week, and neither of you were in the mindset to make any major decisions that night.

"Let me take Noah out for the day tomorrow," The Boyfriend suggested as you laid side by side in your new bed. You'd taken almost all of the furniture from your old apartment with you, seeing as how it was vastly superior to the junk he'd accumulated in his bachelor pad, but the bed- well, it just symbolized too much of that past that you're trying so hard to let go of. "We'll go to that indoor play place where everything's padded and we won't come back until he's worn out. You can sleep the whole time we're gone." 

"I'm not _that_ tired," you lie, knowing you could easily close your eyes right now and not wake up until this same time tomorrow night. It'd been two months and yet you still felt like you were recovering from the stress of the move. Add to that a toddler, a full time job as CO of a shorthanded squad, and an indian summer heatwave that just wouldn't let up, and all the coffee in the world wasn't enough to keep you going some days. 

He smiles, resting his hand on the pillow next to your cheek and waiting for you to entwine your fingers with his. "I'll take that as a yes."

You were too tired to argue.

_{I think your darkest day should have some light this year}_

You never expected to jump out of bed as soon as you heard the front door shut the next morning.

After all, it was only a few minutes past nine and you hadn't slept at all that night. You couldn't, not until you knew for certain.

You're not really sure why you were so convinced that you were pregnant even before you had a row of tests with tiny red plus signs staring back at you. Yeah, you'd been tired, and you might have put on a few pounds, but nothing that really stood out. That is, until you were drifting off to sleep the night before and heard the little voice in the back of your head announce loudly and clearly that you needed to go and pee on a stick.

(It felt so real that you expected both 'your boys' to wake up. Neither of them did. Some help they were.)

You'd known it was a possibility, seeing as how you hadn't exactly been doing anything to prevent it from happening. You never bothered refilling your prescription for the pill when it ran out after your second encounter with Lewis because, quite frankly, it wasn't necessary. For a while, you were pretty sure you'd never need it again. But when the time finally came that you were ready to give it a try, you and The Boyfriend decided that you being 46 was all the birth control you needed. Beyond that, you'd let nature take its course.

Which it apparently did. You felt like a cartoon character whose eyes had popped out of their head as you stared at the collection of sticks lined up on the bathroom counter, trying to figure out what to do next. When nothing came to mind, you picked up the phone.

"Liv? Liv, what is it? Noah? Is he okay? Did something happen?"

(Nick obviously never expected to get a call from you on a Saturday morning for anything short of a life or death emergency. After all, it was barely after 6 AM California time).

"No! I mean, yes, something happened, but Noah's fine, we're all fine. We're-" You paused, taking a mental snapshot of this moment because you never wanted to forget it, the first time you got to say "I'm. Uh. I'm pregnant."

_{you’re on the road but you’ve got no destination  
you’re in the mud, in the maze of her imagination}_

You never expected that it'd take almost two days before you were able to say those words again.

After all, it felt so good when you told Nick- so good, in fact, that you started laughing hysterically until you could barely breathe. Nick tried to calm you down but it was too contagious, and pretty soon he gave into his own fit of laughter even as he admitted that he didn't know what was so funny (but he knew better than to disagree with a pregnant woman). When you finally decided to say goodbye and let him go back to sleep, you went and laid down on your bed, cheeks hurting from smiling so much as you rested your palm on your stomach. 

You remembered how he joked that you couldn't really be pregnant because you hadn't fainted- fainting was _always_ the first pregnancy symptom for women in novelas. If a female of childbearing age passed out, you could safely guess that next week's major plotline would involve some sort of controversy over who the real baby daddy was. 

Thank God that wasn't an issue for you this time, you thought, remembering your false alarm from two winters ago. You'd been devastated when the test came up negative but in retrospect, it was nothing short of a minor miracle. Lewis had escaped less than three months later, and although you might've handled it much differently if you'd been pregnant, you know deep down that you were fated to meet one last time. Losing a baby had been traumatic enough as an oblivious, unprepared 20 year old, but to have it happen again...

No. He's dead. He can't get to you anymore and he'll never be able to hurt your little bean, the one whose tiny heart is already beating somewhere inside you. You know this. And you know that Little Bean isn't even a bean yet, more like a seedling, but that doesn't stop your lungs from feeling heavier and heavier as you think of all the other dangers out there waiting to strike. This isn't anything new, you've been through the whole rational vs. irrational fear thing with your therapist dozens of times in the last year because you don't want Noah inheriting your anxieties and distrust. But yet, this is also uncharted territory. Little Bean is a part of you, literally; you're the only one who can protect it and if you fail at that, you're the only one to blame. Taking care of it, in turn, means taking care of yourself and you're not always good at that. Other people, yes. You can do that. But when it comes to yourself...all you can see are your failures.

You roll onto your side and draw your knees up toward your chest, eyes squeezed shut and focused solely on the way your chest rises and falls as you breathe. Don't stop, you think to yourself. Don't stop.

_{I’m trying not to move  
it’s just your ghost passing through}_

_You didn't expect that you'd ever return to this place._

_After all, he was dead. That part of your life was over...or so you thought. But here you were again in that abandoned grainery, your legs tightly bound to the legs of the chair you were sitting in. There was a loaded gun in your right hand and cradled in your left arm- a baby. Your baby._

_"Pull the trigger, Olivia, or I will." You look up to see him standing in front of you, alive if not well, his gun trained steadily on your newborn's head._

_"No. Not her. Please, not her." He raises his arm slightly until he's aiming straight between your eyes, and you let out a sob as you realize that if he kills you there's no one to stop him from taking her. You need a new strategy. "Whatever it is you want, I'll do it, God please. Just please don't."_

_He laughs, shakes his head. "You think I still wanna fuck you? Nah, I'm done with that. I guess you could say the thrill is gone...I'm just here for my kid. She's coming back with me."_

_"She's not yours!" You struggle furiously with your restraints, trying to break free while holding onto your baby- who's stayed remarkably quiet and still this whole time. *Too* quiet. You jiggle your arm gently and she opens her eyes, looks up at you, and then closes them again. She has her daddy's eyes. He won't forgive you for this, for not being able to protect his daughter. "I won't let you have her."_

_"How many times do I have to tell you? You're not the one in charge here. I let you live, sweetheart, that means I own you now. Whether this baby lives or dies, it's up to me."_

_"No. You don't...she's mine. Mine," you repeat, stroking the little girl's tiny cheek to try and wake her up once more. When she doesn't respond, you start to get frantic. "What did you do?!"_

_"I didn't do anything, Olivia. Maybe she made her own choice. You think she really wants you as a mother? Knowing she'll probably grow up to be just like you, just like her grandma? Who wants that kind of legacy? At least Noah's not really yours. It'll make it easier on him to just walk away someday when he finally learns the truth about you- but this poor little girl's fucked already."_

_"Wake up, baby, we gotta get out of here," you whisper urgently. "Your daddy's gonna be so angry if I let something bad happen to you-"_

_*Click*. You hear an unmistakable sound and you know without looking that he's pointing the gun at her again. "Game's over, sweetheart, it's time for her to go now. Do it or I will. Last chance-"_

_"Wai-"_

_*Bang.*_

You sit straight up in bed, disoriented and confused by the wails you hear coming from somewhere you can't quite locate. "Where. You shot her, where is she?!"

"Liv. Hey. It's just a dream, alright? I got you." You hear The Boyfriend's voice, feel a cautious hand on your shoulder, but you abruptly jerk away from him. He says nothing in reply, just turns away from you and gets up out of bed. "Gonna go check on Noah."

"Yeah." This is when you feel like the absolute worst mother alive, these nights when you wake your son up with your screaming or shouting- no matter how sporadic they may be. Even one is too many, and it's only going to get worse when he's old enough to start asking questions that you're not sure if you'll ever know how to answer. 

Normally this is how it works; The Boyfriend will go calm him down and give you a few minutes of privacy to recoup, and then once you're ready you'll go join them to prove to Noah that Momma's okay. You usually end up rocking him back to sleep, just you and him snuggled together underneath the moonlight, and you don't know what you'll do when he decides he's too big for such things because truth is, it's probably more for you than him. 

But tonight is different, tonight you're running for the bathroom just in time to avoid throwing up the remnants of yesterday's dinner all over the floor and something is very wrong here, you knew those noodles tasted funny but you forced yourself to choke them down for Little Bean's sake and now what have you done, you poisoned your baby and-

"Liv? You alright in there?" 

The Boyfriend's voice interrupts your momentary panic and you swallow hard. "Fine."

"Oookay...Noah's just hanging out in his crib waiting for you whenever you're up to it."

You pause while half-standing, half-crouching because _shit_ , he'll want you to pick him up and you shouldn't be lifting things, and you can't just put him in bed with you because he might try to crawl on top of you and that would put pressure on your stomach, plus he kicks in his sleep and..."No! I mean, I can't. I just can't, I think I'm getting sick and I- can you please just stay with him for a while?"

There's no response except the sound of footsteps walking away, but when you make it back to bed you can hear The Boyfriend humming quietly to Noah from inside the nursery. Several minutes go by until the footsteps return.

"He's out like a light," he says, and the mattress dips beside you. "Liv...honestly. What's going on?"

"I'm fine. Must've been something I ate." You know he doesn't believe you, that he's getting frustrated and trying not to show it, but you don't know how to tell him that he just needs to give you a little more time. You need a chance to sort everything out in your head and figure out how you're going to give him the news. Not because you're worried that he'll react badly- in fact, it's the exact opposite. To your surprise, he'd been the first one to bring up the idea of a little sibling for Noah. They had this incredible bond despite not being related biologically or legally (well, at least they did once Noah got over his initial skepticism), but you were still a bit shocked that he genuinely wanted one more. Not only for the obvious reasons of parenthood being time consuming and expensive and neither of you are exactly in your prime childrearing years, but also because it's a commitment, a way of saying _I know we'll have this connecting us for the rest of our lives, for better or worse, and I am okay with that._

And what's bigger than any of those things put together is that he trusts you, which is really quite amazing considering that he _knows_ you, he's seen you break down and break yourself into pieces and break his own heart more than once. He knows you're not a perfect mother- that some days you're not even a _good_ one- and he still wants a baby with you anyway. Which is why you're hesitant to tell him, because he'll be so happy and he has so much faith in you and it'd break his heart (again) if you let him down. He's forgiven you plenty of times, but you don't think he'd ever really forgive you for not being able to protect his own child.

"We don't keep secrets from each other, Liv," he reminds you gruffly, and you know he's hurt, know he wants to say more, but he leaves it at that. 

You'll have to tell him eventually, of course, but not now. 

You just need time.

_{what the hell were all the reasons_  
for holding on for such dear life?  
here’s where I let go} 

_[Liv, you're killing me here, how'd baby daddy take the news?]_

_[don't know, Nick. Haven't told him yet]_

_[what. Why not? Pls don't tell me you're gonna break it to him by putting a literal bun in the oven or some shit like that]_

_[that's actually a thing people do?]_

_[on pinterest, yes.]_

_[...]_

_[I'm retired, Liv, I've got so much free time]_

The phone rings and you quickly silence it, not wanting the boys to hear that you're awake. "Pinterest? Really?"

"I just wanted garden ideas, okay? The weather here's perfect, I'm gonna have this awesome garden...I just wish Gil and Zara didn't think they were too cool for it." You admit Nick has more parenting experience than you do, but you doubt that any kid would describe planting organic heirloom non-GMO vegetables with their dad as 'cool'. "So why haven't you told him? And did you remember your vitamins?"

"I haven't even gotten out of bed, Nick..."

"And it's what, noon your time? You need to eat something, you can't-"

"You're not helping me!" you interrupt sharply before he can lecture you on the virtues of locally grown free range gluten free meat or whatever the hell else. Because stupid food fads aside, you're all too aware of everything out there (and inside yourself) that could potentially harm your vulnerable Little Bean. As mind numbingly horrifying as your dream the night before had been, murderous sexual sadists were the least of your worries when you knew there's only a one in five chance that this baby would even survive the first trimester. 

He listens to your long list of dread-inducing statistics, and thank God he doesn't laugh or try to reason with you or just say that you're flat out insane and have no business gestating another human being. "And I'm. I just don't. What happened before...I can't go through that again."

"I know, I know. You shouldn't have to, and I hope you don't," he murmurs sympathetically, and again you offer him a silent thanks for not attempting to placate you with bullshit promises of 'it'll all be okay' when you both know that realistically, it might not be, "but Liv, can I be brutally honest here?"

See? No bullshit. "Sure, but if I hang up on you, you'll know you've gone too far."

"You don't actually have to make everything so hard on yourself, y'know. Whatever happens...back then, you pretty much had to deal with it all on your own. You don't have to do that now, right? You're lucky cause...well. You know how I feel about your baby daddy, I'm never gonna be his biggest fan but he _loves you_. You're not alone this time."

"But if something goes wrong..."

"Hey. He's an asshole, but not that much. Trust me- he wants to be a part of this, no matter what, and if something does go wrong, you're gonna need each other to lean on. And it'll just get harder to tell him, the longer you wait."

You nod even though he can't see it, listening to the sound of Noah playing with his blocks in the next room. "I really miss you sometimes. Almost makes me wish you were still sleeping on my couch."

"Hey, I'll be out there pretty soon for Thanksgiving. But if you need me before then, you just say the word." Much to your embarrassment, Nick had used his goodbye party to publicly threaten The Boyfriend, reminding him that 'planes fly pretty fast these days' and that 'if you hurt her, I won't kill you. That'd be too merciful. I will make your life hell.'

"I think I'll be okay," you say, and you're surprised when you realize that for once you actually kinda sorta believe it.

_{the whole truth is like the story of a wave unfurled}_

"He's asleep," The Boyfriend reports, looking at you a bit warily as you sit cross-legged at the head of the bed. "Didn't even fight it. He was out as soon as he laid down."

"I figured he'd be tired after all that excitement and no nap yesterday." When it came to Noah, you've tried to be a stickler for routines since the day you brought him home. His life up until then had been so chaotic and you wanted him to have some comfort in familiarity. Some days are total failures when it comes to following said routine, but you're hoping that today he'll cooperate and sleep soundly for a couple hours so you can get this over with before you think yourself into a black hole of anxiety once again.

"Uh, so. You wanted to talk?" 

'Wanted' might be putting it a bit too optimistically. 'Needed' is probably more accurate. "Yeah. Because I owe you an apology for yesterday but...there's something I've never told you. Never told _anyone_ until last year, actually. And it's something that happened a long time ago but I...I just think you should know."

So you told him the whole story, and you cried a little even though you swore to yourself that you wouldn't, but by the end you were mostly just relieved to have gotten it out in the open without him being dismissive or judgemental or mad that you never mentioned it before. Although- now it was time for the really tough part. You swipe at your eyes with the back of one hand, looking down at the other as your fingers trace circles across his palm. "Um. You're probably wondering why I'm telling you all this now."

"Oh. I guess, yeah." He looked a little surprised, like he had gotten so caught up in what you were saying that he had forgotten there might be a larger point.

You finally glance up at him through your lashes, wanting to see his reaction but too scared to face him eye to eye. "Well, it's. I...uh, I'm pregnant."

He's saying something, you think, but you're not sure what, because you're busy adding all these qualifiers onto your announcement as if he doesn't already know all the same gloomy statistics that you do.

"Hey, hey. Sssh." He reaches out, brushes your cheek with his fingertips to get your attention. "So this is...you're really pregnant."

He's smiling and for the first time, you give him a tentative smile in return. "Yeah. I really am. But I-"

He doesn't even let you finish your sentence before his mouth is on yours.

_{now I’m sleeping fine  
sometimes the truth is like a second chance}_

You never expected the conversation to end with the two of you half-dressed and snuggled together, his hand splayed out on your still-mostly flat stomach.

After all, you had no idea that pregnancy announcements were such an aphrodisiac. Maybe it was just the surge of relief you felt about finally getting it out in the open but, whatever it was, you suddenly couldn't keep your hands off of him. And even though you weren't going to risk actually having sex until you got the okay from your doctor, that certainly didn't stop you from fooling around a little.

"I, uh, got distracted before I could ask if you knew how far along you are," he says with a wry smile.

"I'm guessing about six or eight weeks, but it's hard to tell."

"So around the time we moved." He chuckles softly. "You think it was here or there?"

Fuck, you hadn't thought of that. "I hope it was here...god, I was lifting all that shit and- I can't believe I didn't figure this out sooner. I think of all the stuff I probably shouldn't have been doing and..."

"No, hon, stop. It's okay," he says, palm smoothing over your abdomen. "You haven't been bullfighting, you haven't been shooting up heroin...so you had a couple drinks, and maybe you would've taken it easier if you'd known, but it's not a big deal. Look at Noah. People do a lot worse when they're pregnant and everything turns out fine."

"Noah's mom was a lot younger, though, the odds of something going wrong were lower to begin with."

"And you think our baby knows that?" You raise an eyebrow at him. "Look, what were the odds of this happening in the first place? One in a hundred? He's obviously a stubborn little thing already. Like his mother."

"Me? I was gonna say he gets it from his father...but why do you assume it's a boy?"

"Just a feeling, I guess," and now that makes two votes for a boy against your premonition of it being a girl, but you're going to keep that to yourself for a while. "But I'm serious. He, or she- but it's definitely a he- doesn't know that statistically he's not 'supposed' to make it. Babies are tougher than you think, and anyway...even if eighty percent don't make it, that means twenty percent that do. So what's to say he's not one of those?"

You give him a skeptical look, hand reaching out for his. "When has anything in my life ever gone the way it's supposed to?"

"That's my point. You're not _supposed_ to get pregnant at 47...but here we are. It wouldn't be our kid if it followed all the rules, would it?"

He finally coaxes a laugh out of you with that because, well, it's true. "I just...I want this so badly," you admit with uncharacteristic honesty. "It scares me."

"I know, Liv. Me too. But I love you," and that's still not something you say to one another very often, so when he does say it, you know this is important, "and I _trust_ you, and whatever happens isn't going to change that."

And once again, you're surprised because you actually kinda sorta believe it. 

_{go ahead, push your luck  
find out how much love the world can hold}_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Once again, I have a ‘one-shot’ that is...uh, multichaptered. So to everyone who told me so- you were right. And no, this isn’t the last chapter. I’m thinking this may be a five-part thing, but I give up trying to guess. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed the first chapter- I had fun hearing who you pictured The Boyfriend to be and everyone’s various theories :)
> 
> **A/N:** warning for reference to a past sexual assault and a minor ‘spoiler’ for a chapter of Those Graces that hasn’t been written yet. Quotes from _a sorta fairytale_ by tori amos, _these are days_ by 10,000 Maniacs, and _your fire, your soul_ by dar williams.

_{a sorta fairytale with you}_

You never expected that being pregnant would involve announcing it so often.

After all, in a few months it'll pretty much be obvious without you having to say a word. But for now, your delicate condition remains invisible (although you feel wider already, and you woke up to your boobs feeling about three times heavier than they were last night).

"So you're going to be a big brother," you say to Noah as you sit on the couch after breakfast, watching him build a tower with a set of big plastic blocks. He has no idea what this entails, of course, but it can't hurt to start introducing the concept. You don't want him to grow up surrounded by lies and half-truths and 'we don't talk about that' the way you did, which is why you talk openly about his birth mother and read books about adoption even if he's too young to truly understand. "Does that sound fun? Having a baby brother or sister to play with?"

"Baby."

"That's right, a baby! Do you think it's a boy or girl?"

"QUE???" he asks, eyes wide and mouth open in a surprised 'O'. He's gaining new vocabulary words by the hour, which is a relief to you because his language skills were a little weak for his age when you first brought him home, but it also means that anything and everything he hears is liable to come out of his mouth. This includes words he's picked up from Uncle Nick's telenovelas, complete with the overdramatic inflection and facial expressions. It was cute. The first 300 times. 

The Boyfriend laughs, so obviously the joke is still fresh to him. "Hey Liv? You seen my orange juice?"

"Um. Yes, actually, I have." Noah decides his tower's now tall enough and picks up a baby doll, roaring before charging at the tower and sending the doll flying into it headfirst. "Noah...you're supposed to be nice to your baby. Did you see that, hon? What if he's already angry because he feels replaced? I don't want them to fight..."

"They will. That's what siblings do. Nothing's gonna change that."

Suddenly you're questioning the wisdom of having more than one kid. "Wow. That was encouraging."

"It was honest." He comes over to you and stands behind the couch, rubbing your shoulder. "We were talking about the juice."

"Oh. Yeah. I saw it...when I drank it all." You're not usually fond of orange juice, but you'll get a craving for it once or twice a year and then that's that. Until last night, when out of nowhere it seemed like a great idea to drink three glasses of it right in a row. And it was great- until you had to get up and pee about 14 times throughout the night.

"But you don't even like it."

"Is this where I get to use the excuse that the baby wanted it? I'm sorry, I'll go to the store and get you another carton. Noah and I could use the fresh air anyway." You get off the couch and kneel down on the floor, waiting for him to come toward you for a hug. "Wanna go for a walk with me?"

He thinks about this for a second. "QUE???"

_{these are days you'll remember_  
never before and never since, I promise  
will the whole world be warm as this} 

The next announcement you made came first thing Monday morning.

If you had the choice, you would've rather waited until you were a bit more secure in the knowledge that this baby was going to make it. But after talking it over with The Boyfriend, you decided it would be less stressful to let your squad know up front than to try and hide it, especially since you were starting your self-imposed desk duty right away. 

Besides, they weren't just your squad. They were your family. As Nick had said- if something does go wrong, you're gonna need someone to lean on. (And if you didn't hurry up and tell them, you knew he would). 

So with all this in mind, you stood in the doorway of your office and tapped on the wall to get their attention. "You three. In here."

"I told you not to. I said, don't do it," you hear Fin telling Amanda and Carisi, and you decide you're not even going to ask, because you'd probably rather not know. 

"You can sit down," you say, shutting the door behind you and closing the blinds for good measure. Even Fin's starting to sweat now. "I've got something I need to tell you all but before I do, I need you to promise it doesn't leave this room."

Amanda's getting pale, but Carisi's literally on the edge of his seat with anticipation. "Got it, Sarge."

"Yeah. Well...it's still very early on but...I'm pregnant." While the men look shocked, Amanda looks like a death row inmate who got a last-second pardon, and you're definitely going to have to grill Nick about this. 

Carisi is the first to speak. "Wow! That's...how did that happen?" When he sees the looks everyone's giving him, he corrects himself (or tries to). "I mean, I know how it happened. Not, like, the specifics- well, I know those, but I don't know how exactly you-"

"God, Carisi, shut it," Amanda complains. "Liv, I'm sure what he's trying to say is, congratulations."

"Yeah, that's what I wanted to say."

You nod. "Fin?" you ask when you notice the skeptical look on his face.

"Your boyfriend know about this? And he's okay with having another kid runnin' around?"

"He is. We'd actually been thinking about adopting again and then this...it was a complete surprise. But a good one."

"Cause you're kinda old for that, aren't you?" Carisi asks. "Like, my grandma was 50-something when I was born. Just sayin'."

"How old do you think she _is_?" Amanda asks, shaking her head. 

You and Fin look at each other and smile- oh, the days when 50 still seemed so...old. "Anyway, Carisi does have a point in that I'm...not young. There's a lot of things that could go wrong and I'm trying to be as cautious as I can, which was why I wanted to tell you three right away."

"Anything you need, Liv, you got it," Fin assures you. "Don't worry. Take it easy and we'll pick up the slack."

"I knew I could count on you guys. And once I'm...once I know more, I'll start telling everyone else, but for now if you could keep it quiet-"

Someone knocks on the door, and it makes you a little nervous considering that the squad's all with you and the unis know better than to bother you when the blinds are closed. The last thing you need right now is to have something huge dumped on you by the higher-ups...

It turns out to be Barba, who tries hard not to seem particularly crushed after he glances around the room and sees you all sitting together, acting much more relaxed than you would had you been discussing a case. "Well, I can see I'm interrupting something here."

"Not at all," you assure him, but he still looks like the only kid on the block who didn't get invited to a birthday party and is now watching longingly from his front yard while everyone else is jumping in the bouncy castle and eating ice cream. "Want to come in?"

"I don't have time to socialize," he says, still pretending not to care.

"You want to hear this, trust me. I was going to call you later but now that you're here...stay? Please?"

The corner of his mouth turns up a millimeter as he walks through your office doorway. "I suppose I have a few minutes to spare."

_{and they say they want your story_  
but they get confused by all those words you use  
a year ago your car went off a cliff  
and you saw an angel in midair who said you'd live  
well that's a story you can give} 

The third announcement came later that day. Being clueless about this whole pregnancy thing, along with not even knowing for sure how far along you were, you used your lunch break to find out from Dr. Google when you were supposed to schedule your first OB appointment.

This search landed you on a forum full of hysterical women using poor grammar and abbreviations you didn't understand. You did, however, notice that most of these women had known they were pregnant before the sex was even over and had finished decorating the nursery by the time they got a positive pregnancy test. Now you feel very, very behind schedule. You close the laptop and call your doctor's number, hoping you won't be yelled at for not already having a 'birth plan' (whatever that was. Isn't the plan just supposed to be 'give birth to baby in the safest and least painful way possible'? Because that's kinda what your plan consisted of...)

"Dr. Michaels' office, Erica speaking," a young-sounding voice says.

"Hi. I'm a patient of Dr. Michaels' and-" You briefly explain the situation, only to be met with silence. "Hello?"

"Yeah. How old did you say you were?"

"47." More silence.

"Yeah. And you think you're pregnant. Did you take a test?" 

"Actually, I took three."

"Yeah. And they were positive?"

Would you be calling if they weren't? "Yes. They were."

"Yeah. But did you check to make sure they weren't expired?"

"Could you maybe just put me through to the nurse's voicemail and I can leave a message for her?"

A long sigh. "Yeah. I guess. Hang on."

You were relieved when the nurse called back and actually took your word for it, that you were pregnant and not just a delusional woman in early menopause. She did, however, give you a referral to a practice that also had high-risk specialists "because of your...advanced age."

Later that night, after you put Noah to bed, you were looking through all the new patient forms you were supposed to complete when The Boyfriend came out of the bathroom. He was still shirtless after having showered and you tried not to let out an audible whine. Goddamn hormones. You wondered if it would seem too eager to ask the doctor if you were allowed to have sex before you even introduced yourself. Probably. "So you felt alright at work today?"

"Yeah, fine. Which scares me a little. Other than being kinda achy and tired- I really don't feel nauseous or anything. And everyone says the sicker you are, the less likely it is that you'll lose the baby..."

"Sssh. We're not thinking like that, remember what we decided? Everything's fine until we know for sure that it's not."

"I know, I know...you're right." Stress is bad for Little Bean, you remind yourself, taking a deep breath. Trying not to dwell on your worries, you point toward the screen of your iPad. "You've gotta fill this out before our appointment. Family medical history."

He nods and sits down next to you (but not before putting a shirt on, you're grateful to notice). "Got it. And you...you're doing okay with all this?"

"With how half of my part basically just says 'unknown'? Well...I knew it was coming, so."

"That, yeah, but I meant-"

You hold up your hand to stop him, the other hand rubbing at your eyes. "I know what you mean."

"But you don't wanna talk about it?" he asks, and he shifts toward you but he's careful to make sure that you're not touching, letting you be the one to decide if you want him any closer.

"I...I don't know what the fuck to say," you admit. You'd managed to keep it pushed aside all day by focusing on one step at a time. And now all you want to do is fill out this goddamn paperwork, but now that you've gotten past the basic initial info, every question is a fucking landmine. "How am I even- if I can't even do this...this is supposed to be the easy part."

"You don't have to do it all tonight, hon. You've got a couple days. Why not take a break for now and come back to it tomorrow?"

"Like it'll be any easier then?" You turn and lean back against his chest, allowing him to wrap his arm around your waist. "I should be able to do this. It shouldn't be this hard. Not like..."

"The actual appointment," he says gently. The last time you were around any sort of doctor, you still had someone else's blood spattered all over your face. They checked you for a concussion, gave you some sort of sedative, and when they asked pointedly if you had any injuries other than those visible scrapes and bruises, you said no. 

The next morning you took a taxi halfway across town to some hole in the wall pharmacy, sunglasses on and hair pulled back. You kept your head down and went straight to the aisle you were looking for, paid in cash, and as soon as you were back outside you dry swallowed the pills before dumping the packaging in a nearby trash can. Then you got into another cab as quickly as you could and went back home, taking some small comfort in knowing that you'd never have to tell a soul.

Ever since then you've been even more nervous about close contact with strangers than you were after your previous assault. You can deal with handshakes or bumping into others on the street, but even someone touching your arm or shoulder during casual conversation makes your stomach clench. And while you're much more relaxed around the people you're closest to, there's still moments when it gets to you, like the day not too long after you brought Noah home when he was cranky from teething and would scream uncontrollably if you weren't holding him. This went on for hours and hours until you couldn't breathe because you were so panicked by having someone constantly clinging to you. By then you had no choice but to put him in his crib and let him wail- although you're not sure which one of you was crying harder. 

It was one of many, many moments where you seriously doubted whether you were cut out to be a mother. And now here you are again, wondering how the hell you're going to be able to get through this next hurdle. You will, of course, you'll grit your teeth and find a way to endure it for the sake of your baby. "It'll be fine. I'm okay."

"Are you? Honestly."

Honestly? Just the thought of that fucking blood pressure cuff squeezing your wrist is enough to make you nauseous if you think about it long enough, never mind the...more invasive shit that you can't even think about. But looming larger than any of that, of course, is the fear of admitting that you're scared. You can't give him any reason to doubt you can handle this and everything else coming your way, not when you need his faith in you to make up for the faith you don't have in yourself. "I'll live."

"I know you will, hon...but I also know you've been stalling on your department physical, because you've canceled at the last minute four times now."

"I told you, things keep coming up. But I'm not gonna cancel this, okay, so don't worry."

"I'm not." He leans in, dropping a kiss to your bare shoulder. "I know you'd crawl through broken glass for this baby. _Our_ baby. Because you're an amazing mother to him already."

You duck your head, letting your hair fall forward to hide your face because you feel yourself blushing. It's been two whole days and he's already figured out what makes your hormone-addled heart melt into a big disgusting puddle. "You don't know it's a boy."

"And you don't know it's not."

"Do you want it to be?" you ask, jumping on the chance to change the subject.

"I'm not sure. Maybe we need another girl around here so you won't be outnumbered anymore, huh?" He's quiet for a moment, idly rubbing your non-existent baby bump. "Y'know...no one's judging you if you _are_ nervous."

"Oh for Christ's sake, what do you want me to say? If I tell you I am, will you quit asking?"

You try to stand up, but he tightens his hold on you slightly- enough to get your attention, but not enough that you couldn't still escape if you wanted to. "Liv. Stop."

"Son of a bitch," you mutter, but without any heat behind it. He's learned not to let you goad him into an argument, but he won't always walk away either, and it pisses you off but at the same time there's that part of you that _wants_ someone else to take control and call you out on your shit. You twist away from him halfheartedly and when he still doesn't let you go, you sigh and eventually relent. "I just get so damn sick of it, how everything has to be such a fucking struggle. It felt like...it's like I get to this point where I think wow, I'm really moving on with my life, this is good. Like sometimes it'll be late at night before I notice that I actually haven't thought about it all day- I remember a long time ago, thinking that would never happen. That I'd never get that far."

"But you did."

"Yeah. I did. And then oh, wait, here comes something else that brings it all back up again. But- _godfuckingdamnit_!" you swear, your voice finally breaking, hand scrubbing over your face as if that would do anything to muffle the sound of your tears. "I hate him, I fucking hate him, the bastard piece of shit can't just die and stay dead and I shouldn't. I shouldn't still feel this way. It's over. I need to get over it."

"It's okay, it's okay. Let it out, I've got you." He doesn't say anything else at first, just takes his free hand in yours and waits until your breathing starts to even out. "We talked about this before, back when we were going to meet with the fertility specialist- remember? That it wouldn't be easy for you because of this sort of shit...but I knew you could do it."

"I can, I'm fine," you insist, forcing yourself to sit up straighter and pull it together as if your momentary breakdown hadn't happened. You remembered every word of that late night conversation back at the old apartment, how you went back and forth in your own head because as much as you wanted another baby, you were never going to be able to trust yourself enough to say yes, let's do this. But he didn't have the same doubts, and in the end...if you can trust me, I can too, you told him.

"Even if you weren't fine, I still trust you. One hundred percent. Think of everything you've been through with Noah...we've sure as hell had our share of times like this before, haven't we? But you've dealt with it and you've kept going, and that's why I trust you. I do, _and_ our baby does."

"I don't want her to feel like I resent her. They say babies can pick up on emotions early on and...I don't want her feeling like she's a burden before she's even born," you admit, fighting to keep yourself from tearing up again. 

"She doesn't. I promise you, she- or he- knows how much they're loved already."

You bite your lip and smile at that, wiping under your eyes with your fingers. "I never thought I'd love someone this much when I haven't even met them yet."

"Just think, in a couple days we'll get a look at him for the first time."

"And we'll get to hear the heartbeat. I already had to tell Nick I'm not going to call and put him on speaker so he can hear it."

"God, that guy needs a job _bad_ ," he says with a little chuckle. He moves to lie down and you let him pull you down on top of him. "You're gonna be okay. And I'll be there with you the entire time...but you know who you should talk to? You should give Alice a call."

Alice was the nurse who'd come by every day after your kidnapping to help you change your bandages and check on how your injuries were healing. You had lost touch with her after that until you happened to run into each other eight or nine months later, and you'd stayed in contact ever since then. "You think so?"

"Yeah. I mean, she knows you, knows your history...you'd probably feel a lot better after you talked to her. If nothing else, she'll be excited to hear about the baby."

He did have a point- you didn't exactly have a lot of female friends, let alone ones with pregnancy experience, and you knew she was someone who wouldn't give you bullshit answers to your questions just to make you feel better. "Maybe I will. I've been meaning to send her some of Noah's new pictures anyway."

"Yeah, what's it been, a week since you've posted a new album online? Everyone's missed so much."

"Hey, who's the one who actually takes them all in the first place?" It's no secret that the camera roll on his phone is almost always completely full of pictures of Noah. You tilt your head up, giving him a smile, but then you wince as you feel a twinge in your lower back. 

"Where's it hurt?" he asks, and you gesture toward the base of your spine. "Want me to rub it?"

"I don't know, is that all you're offering?" He laughs, which irritates you a little because it wasn't a joke. What you really want right now is for him to fuck you until you can't remember your name, let alone anything else that's weighing on your mind, but you'll take what you can get. 

Now you're lying flat on your stomach and his hands are moving downward, getting dangerously close to your ass, and then all of a sudden his palm skims over the back of your thigh and you arch toward him in response. "Ohh, so _that's_ what you wanted."

"Mmmyeah," you mumble, and his hand keeps traveling higher until he's touching you through the thin cotton of your pajama pants and there's no way he can't feel how much you want this. You've been trying to get better at communicating, at taking your therapist's advice about not using sex as a way to avoid dealing with your emotions, but jesus christ...you're only human. And a hormonal pregnant human at that.

He pulls his hand back and you instantly voice your displeasure, but he doesn't give in. "Not tonight."

"And why the hell not?" He's infuriatingly good at teasing you like this, and normally it's kinda fun and a definite turn on. Tonight, though, you're mostly just annoyed.

That is, until he leans forward and whispers into your ear that if you're patient until the doctor gives you the all clear, he'll make it worth the wait. "Got it?"

"Mmm, but you could still-" Your seduction attempt is cut short by the sound of Noah coughing in the next room. His asthma had stayed pretty much under control all summer, thank God, but he still had this nighttime cough that reared its ugly head once a week or so. "I'll go get his inhaler. Will you pour some water in his sippy cup and bring it to me?"

"I'm on it," he says, looking a bit uncomfortable as he reaches for his sweats.

"We're never going to have sex again, are we? Once we have two kids."

"Probably not. But hey, it was fun while it lasted."

You shake your head and smile because sometimes, despite all the demons you still battle every day, you can't help but feel ridiculously lucky to have the life you're living now. 

_{these days you might feel a shaft of light  
make its way across your face...}_

And the final announcement...well, that one was addressed directly to you.

The next morning you woke up before your alarm went off, when the sun was just starting to peek out from over the horizon. You're not even sure why you bothered with an alarm in the first place, not when your bladder did a much more effective job of getting your attention every few hours- and unlike your phone, it didn't come with a snooze button. 

You sit up slowly, your achy muscles already screaming at you, and it doesn't take more than one step toward the bathroom before you're hit with the feeling of being on a ship that's riding a tidal wave.

"Liv? Shit, you okay?" you hear The Boyfriend call out from the other side of the closed door, your sudden scramble for the toilet having woken him up.

The dry heaves barely last more than a minute, but once they subside you stay sitting on the tile floor, leaning against the tub and grinning stupidly to yourself because suddenly it's real. This is really happening and you've never been so fucking elated to feel so shitty before. "Yeah. I'm...I'm good. Everything's good."

_{...and when you do_  
you'll know how it was meant to be  
see the signs and know they're speaking to you} 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Liv gets her first look at Little Bean and learns why watering your plants is so mainstream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Look, it's chapter 3 of this 'one shot'. Who would've guessed, huh? I don't honestly know how many chapters this will end up being. It's not going to be another huge 40+ chapter epic, but we'll see. It's fun to write and it keeps me from getting too bogged down in TG (which, if you're curious, will probably be updated next week and will probably me at least as emotionally painful as the last chapter).
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone who reads and everyone who reviews- I love hearing what you think. I'm also on twitter at lucythespencer if you want to let me know your thoughts there.
> 
> **A/N:** pretty mild. A few violent references, a little bit of sex and bad language, and appearances by everyone's favorite California hipster. Shoutout to Lexi for providing the inspiration for Nick's 'unique' gift. Quotes from _these are days_ by 10,000 maniacs, and _this land is mine_ , _closer_ , and _white flag_ by dido.

_{in every hour you'll know it's true  
that you are blessed and lucky}_

Your day starts with an apology.

"He's been a little cranky this morning," you explain to Noah's teacher as you try urging him to hang his jacket up in his cubby. "And he wouldn't eat much of his breakfast, so he'll probably be a real bear pretty soon once he realizes he's hungry- I'm sorry about that. You see, he just found out he's going to be a big brother," you say, voice dropping to a loud whisper, "so I think there's some jealousy going on."

"Mmhmm," his teacher hums, seemingly skeptical. "Noah, will you put your coat away and then go sit on your mat?"

Noah instantly stops his whining, does as told, and then toddles off with nary a complaint. Well then. You give his teacher a sheepish grin. "I'll be back to get him at the usual time."

"He sure showed you," The Boyfriend says with a chuckle after you both waved goodbye to Noah.

"How is that funny? He's already resentful and the baby won't even be here for another eight months."

"He's resentful?"

"Can't you see? That's why he's acting up."

The Boyfriend stops walking and turns around, resting his hands gently on your shoulders. "Or it could be because he's almost two years old and that's what kids do. I promise you, this has nothing to do with the baby."

"I've just worked so hard on trying to make sure he feels secure and doesn't have attachment issues, and now-"

"Liv. Hon. Listen." When you stop talking, he tries again. "He _does_ feel secure. You know why? Because you're a good mother. You said it yourself, you've worked so hard. And yeah, he'll be in for a shock when we bring the baby home, but that's normal and it'll pass. He knows we love him and that's the important thing. Okay?"

"Okay." You nod, not entirely convinced, but you have to give him points for talking to you like you are still a semi-rational human being and not just a neurotic baby incubator. 

He leans in and kisses your forehead. "Did I ever mention that you're such a good mom?"

"You might have, I'm not sure," you joke. "Now c'mon, let's go meet Little Bean."

_{after all the battles and the wars_  
the scars and loss  
I'm still the queen of my domain  
and feeling stronger now} 

"Your phone is blowing up," The Boyfriend observes during the cab ride to the hospital. It had been buzzing constantly the entire time, causing you to ponder whether it would actually make a better vibrator than that back massager you got at Target. God, you have some _serious_ issues here.

"I think Nick's too excited to sleep." It was barely after five AM California time, but he'd already been texting you for hours. Which wasn't such a bad thing, actually, because you'd been too anxious to sleep much last night and he had kept you sane by chatting with you about non-baby topics (The Boyfriend doesn't know it yet, but he really owes Nick one for that). But now he had gone back to sending you ideas for gender reveal parties- yet another thing you never knew existed before you got pregnant- and the whole squad had also been sending you good luck messages. "Plus Carisi's apparently gonna win fifty bucks if it's twins. He heard somewhere that the older you are, the more likely you are to have multiples."

The Boyfriend, who up until now has been remarkably calm about all things pregnancy-related, turns a little pale when he hears this. "How old does he think you _are_ , anyway?"

"I don't know...but now I'm hearing that Amanda's getting $100 if it's triplets." She and Carisi bicker like siblings- there's no sexual tension there- but they bring out this competitive streak in each other that reminds you so much of your partnership with Elliot. "I'm telling Fin to get them back to work. I can't have Amanda relapsing before they even get around to predicting when I'll go into labor."

You hold hands on the way into the hospital and on the elevator ride up to the OB floor. When you're just outside the office door, he squeezes your hand to get your attention. "Hey. How're you feeling?"

"Nervous," you admit quietly. "Excited." You look around quickly to make sure no one's within earshot before adding, with a tiny smirk, "Like I want you to screw me senseless."

"That can probably be arranged. But not here," he adds, and you know he's joking but the idea of semi-public sex suddenly sounds way more appealing than it probably should to a pregnant 47 year old sex crimes cop. "Liv?"

"Yeah?''

"Just remember, whatever we find out about the baby...we'll get through it, okay? I know we said we're not thinking about the negative- but I wanted to be sure you knew."

"I do," you promise, letting him pull you into a quick hug before you hear the elevator ding and a smile lights up your face. "Hey Alice."

You'd taken The Boyfriend's suggestion to give your former nurse a call, and she was as ecstatic to hear your big announcement as he had said she'd be. (Well. Her first response was actually to chuckle and say "So you're going to have two under three. Do you have any idea what you're getting yourself into?"). You talked with her a little about your fears when it came to this appointment, and she was the one who convinced you to be as honest as you could in letting your new OB know about your past ahead of time. Then she had paused and asked if you wanted her to come with you for this first checkup.

"No, no, I couldn't ask you to do that," you had said. 

"I know," she replied. "That's why I'm offering."

Naturally, you had said no at first. You've never been great at accepting help, and you didn't want to be _that_ patient, the difficult one who shows up with her whole entourage. But ultimately you took her up on the offer. You honestly aren't certain how you'll react once you're there, and you're afraid that if you start to panic, The Boyfriend's immediate reaction will be to get angry at the doctor. This way you're sure you have a neutral person there who'll stay focused on you. 

Besides, you admit it's kinda nice having the support of another woman. You've always had a shortage of female friends, and while Alice isn't quite old enough to be your mother, she's been through the whole pregnancy and parenting thing several times before so she's got the wisdom of experience. You reach out and clasp one of her hands between yours, still with an anxious smile on your face. "Thank you again. I'm so glad you're here."

"Course, honey. You holdin' up okay?" When you nod, she turns to The Boyfriend. "And I imagine _you_ must be feeling pretty proud of yourself right now."

"Don't feed his ego. It doesn't need to be inflated any more than it already has been," you joke as the three of you enter the waiting room. 

You do some people-watching to keep your mind occupied while you wait for your name to be called, looking around the room at half a dozen women in various stages of pregnancy. As you expected, you're by far the oldest- a couple of these girls are maybe even young enough that they could be your granddaughter. You and The Boyfriend are already used to being mistaken for Noah's grandparents, and you can only assume it'll be the same with this baby.

The Boyfriend is reading a magazine with "The Disappearance of MH 370- New Clues, Still No Answers" on the cover, and you're about to tell him how Carisi thinks Shakira and Pitbull predicted the crash years ago when the nurse calls your name.

She leads you into an exam room and points toward a blue hospital gown, telling you to get changed and that the doctor would be with you in just a few minutes. You quickly do as told, heart thumping in nervous anticipation, trying to keep focused on the thought of seeing your baby to distract yourself from how you already felt far too exposed. 

Your two companions join you once you tap on the door to tell them the coast is clear. The Boyfriend takes one look at you and can tell something's wrong, coming to stand behind you and rub your back in circles. His palm is warm and it's a welcome distraction from the cool air hitting your bare legs that, combined with the sterile hospital smell of the exam room, threatens to take you back to another time. 

"You're in charge here, remember?" he says quietly. "If you tell them to stop, they will."

You nod, face feeling flushed despite the chill because the longer you sit here, the more frustrated you get with yourself for stressing out so much about this. For you, the only thing worse than actually being afraid is having anyone else know about it. _It's for the baby_ , you remind yourself, _you can do it for the baby_.

Alice saves the day by asking if you've had any strange cravings yet (you haven't, minus that one morning you drank all the orange juice), and she tells you about the time late in her second pregnancy when she drove her husband insane with her endless demands for anything orange-flavored. 

There's a knock at the door and then a tall woman with a light Caribbean accent walks in, followed by a much shorter woman in scrubs. "Hello, I'm Dr. Armstrong and this is Stephanie, my nurse. I think you two spoke on the phone?"

"We did," you say, shaking her hand as everyone else introduced themselves. She had called you after they'd received your records from your old doctor and the new patient information forms you'd filled out ahead of time, wanting to know what they could do to make things less stressful for you, and you were grateful for how accommodating she'd been. "You were...you took a lot of weight off my mind. So thank you."

"Of course," she says as she starts checking your vitals, and you try not to flinch when she wraps her hand around your wrist to check your pulse. "A little on the high side, but that could just be nerves. We'll try again in a few minutes, okay?"

You nod, angry at not being able to force yourself into a less anxious state. _C'mon. You're already fucking this up, get it together_. The Boyfriend reaches out his hand for you again and you shoot him a look that says, in no uncertain terms, don't touch me. 

He gets the message and stays off to your side, close enough that he's right there if you needed him but still giving you your space (and still watching the doctor like she's a suspect under surveillance, cataloging her every move). To his relief- and yours- the first part of the exam goes relatively smoothly. The doctor is careful to talk you through everything before it happens, and when she's not doing that, Alice keeps chatting with you about neutral topics to keep you from slipping into your own head. 

Your heart starts to race a little more when you have to lie down because you know what's coming, and this time when The Boyfriend extends his hand, you don't refuse. He moves his chair so that he's sitting right by your head and the two of you are at eye level with each other. "Hey...look at me?"

You open your eyes, not even realizing that you'd closed them. "I'm alright."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. As much as I can be with..."

"I know. That doesn't seem like, uh. It's an awkward position," he says, and the uncomfortable look on his face is enough to get a smile out of you.

"Oh c'mon, you've seen a lot worse." Ironically, one of your biggest fears hadn't been about how _you_ would react, but how an unfamiliar doctor would react to seeing your scars. At this point in your life, it's something you've more or less accepted because you really have no other choice. You're always going to hate them and you're never going to be fully okay with the way you look, but you're not fixated on them like you used to be. Besides, The Boyfriend is the only one who actually sees it all, and he's proven again and again that it's not an issue for him. But to someone who's never seen them and doesn't know what to expect- well. You've had more than enough doctors who look at you and can't hide their initial reaction, no matter how hard they try, and it's inevitably followed by an uneasy silence or some form of 'oh, I'm so sorry'. You're not sure which one hurts more.

So with this in mind, you'd made sure to let them know about your injuries beforehand (in painstaking detail, probably way more than necessary). That way, you hoped, they could get all the horror out of their system beforehand and you wouldn't have to look at them knowing that they're imagining the worst experience of your life. And so far, it seems to have worked- or else they just have better poker faces than most. 

"Well, Olivia, you seem to be in perfectly good health," Dr. Armstrong says, resting her hand on the ultrasound machine. "We'll talk more in depth about everything in a little while, but first- are you ready to see your baby?"

Your eyes widen, still not used to hearing those words, and for a moment you're so in awe that all you can do is nod and give her a dopey smile. 

"We are," The Boyfriend translates, although he too looks as nervously excited as you've ever seen him.

The doctor explains the process and reminds you that this is likely the only time you'll have to have an internal ultrasound, which is comforting for obvious reasons. You knew what to expect, or so you thought, until you actually got a look at the condom-covered probe and oh god. No. _I'msorryI'msorrypleasegoddon't._

Alice sees your knuckles turn white as you clutch the side of the table and tries to reassure you that it's less uncomfortable than a pap smear, which is all good and well except that you keep staring at the wand and it looks cold and hard and pointed and you are trying very, very hard to pretend like you're not on the verge of panic because no. You're not going to do this. Not here. _nogodstoppleasestop. I'll be good. I promise. Just stop._

"You might feel a little bit of pressure," the doctor says, and she's wrong because it fucking _hurts_ , it hurts like hell and you bite your tongue until you draw blood and you try not to make a sound and then she's telling you to relax and now The Boyfriend is the one who's cringing, because he knows more than anyone what happens when someone says the R-word to you.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I just- can I just have a minute?" you ask, feeling your whole face flush and your hands getting clammy in response to the sharp pain low in your stomach. 'It's all psychological,' you'd been told, there's nothing physically wrong with you that would cause the entire lower half of your body to lock up in some sort of muscle spasm every once in a while, 'so try not to stress about it.' Oh. Okay then.

So here you are, not stressing about it because it's not like you have a roomful of people waiting on you. Once upon a time, your chosen (aka only) method of relaxation was drinking, but now you had a slightly better handle on things. You think. 

"Hey. It's alright." The Boyfriend speaks in a whisper that only you can hear, hand still holding yours. "Just remember, this isn't the toughest thing you'll ever have to do for this kid."

"I know. I still have to push him or her out somehow, huh?"

"But at least they make drugs for that. Imagine when we have to send him off for college. Or when he and Noah ask if they can borrow the car because they wanna spend the weekend at the beach. With girls. And no adult supervision."

You smile softly even though the idea is horrifying, because in his imagined future it's 'we'. Not 'you', not 'I', but _we_. You trust him, at least much more than you trust yourself, but that 'we' is definitely not something you take for granted. "I'll let you be the bad cop for that one." 

"I guess that's only fair since you were the one who had to carry him around for nine months, right?" He smiles back, pushing aside a piece of hair that had fallen in front of your face. "But seriously- we don't have to do this today if it's too much. You're in charge."

"No, I...I can do it. I need to see my baby," you say, freshly determined that you are gonna get through this no matter what. You're not leaving here without knowing that she's okay because, like The Boyfriend said, this is _not_ the toughest thing you'll have to do for her. 

You turn your head back toward the doctor and tell her that you're ready to try again. At least this time, you're prepared for the pain, but then you see the grainy image on the ultrasound screen and you just don't give a fuck. Because _that_ is your baby, and you can't even tell which end is which but she has this tiny racing heartbeat and she's absolutely perfect. You don't even need the doctor to tell you that because you just _know_. 

"Liv?" The Boyfriend asks, touching your shoulder lightly to get your attention. "Did you hear that? Liv?"

"What? No, I...no. I'm sorry, I guess I spaced out," you apologize, even as you're still unable to look away from the monitor.

The doctor laughs warmly. "That's quite alright. It's pretty amazing, isn't it?"

Amazing doesn't even do it justice. Under any other circumstances, the blurry display wouldn't have held your attention for more than a few seconds before you decided there's really nothing to see. But right now you don't see a blob, you see the living breathing tiny human being that blob will become in just a few short months, the one that will be _yours_ from the second they place her in your arms. No custody hearings or paperwork or fear that one day she'll suddenly be taken away, and you won't be waiting for a judge to decide what you already know- that you belong together. "It's...it's incredible. I don't even know what to say."

"Well, everything I can see looks just how it should, and there's a nice strong heartbeat," the doctor assures you. "Of course, there could be something wrong that we can't detect this early on, but for now I don't see anything to be concerned about."

"Can you tell how far along I am?"

She says that based on the baby's size, he or she's probably about eight weeks old. Which, as you had already guessed, meant Little Bean was conceived right around the time you moved. You glance over at The Boyfriend, biting your lip to hide an embarrassed smile as you think back to your last night in the old apartment. He's obviously thinking about the same thing. "That sounds...accurate."

You dig your nails into his palm, glaring as though you had assumed up to this point that the doctor believed Little Bean was the second coming of the Christchild. Later on that afternoon he would ask, "you do understand that everyone knows where babies come from, right?"

"Yes, but they don't need to know the _details_."

"I didn't say a thing! Did you think I'd tell everyone 'well, funny story. All our furniture was gone and Noah was sleeping in our bed, so we ended up'-"

"Your whole face was turning bright fucking red, you didn't _need_ to say anything!" you point out, laughing as he tries to deny it. "For someone who used to work sex crimes, I swear to God..."

"Hey, keep making fun of me and I'll let everyone know it was your idea."

Regardless of whose idea it was (and yes, it was yours), there was no denying now that this was really happening, that this little person inside you is growing and thriving. You don't want the ultrasound to end, regardless of the pain, but then the doctor hands you a few printed screenshots and you happily go right back to staring at your baby.

"He has your eyes," The Boyfriend jokes.

"I hope she has yours," you say before noticing that right now, his are suspiciously shiny. "You're crying."

"Am not," he insists, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He had made a joke earlier that morning about overemotional pregnant women when you got mad at him for forgetting to buy bacon, so you had made a bet with him that he'd be the first one to cry at seeing the baby. Loser buys you bacon (so really, you win either way).

The doctor tells you that you can get dressed and then meet her back in her office. As The Boyfriend stands up to follow everyone else out, you reach out for his arm. "Hey baby?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." When you look over your shoulder and see that you're alone in the room, you pull him in for a kiss. "I guess I'm kinda glad you knocked me up."

"I did a pretty good job, I've gotta say."

You grin in agreement, giving him another kiss on the cheek. "And I want my bacon on a cheeseburger. With thousand island and extra pickles."

_{you'll know it's true that you_  
are touched by something  
that'll grow and bloom in you} 

By the time you leave the doctor's office, you have so many missed calls that you know one of two things must have happened- either Fin has completely lost control and Carisi's now running the unit, or Nick's baby fever has reached permanent brain damage-level proportions.

It's the latter. You snap a picture of your ultrasound printout, and you swear your phone is ringing even before you're done pressing 'send'. "Liv! Baby! That's the baby! You gotta tell me everything. But wait, first- do you have a theme in mind for your scrapbook?"

"My...scrapbook?"

"For the baby!"

"Ah. No? When am I supposed to make a scrapbook? I still haven't had time to even burn all Noah's pictures onto a CD."

"I have it under control, Liv, just leave it to me. Unemployed, remember?" Nick complains daily about being jobless, but you know he's actually quite content being a full time father and hipster. "I'm joining an organic scrapbooking club after gardening season is over- c'mon, tell me about my new sobrino."

You give him the basic rundown during the ride home- at least, until you start hearing noise in the background. "Uh, where are you?"

"I should probably let you go, the protest's about to start."

"Protest for _what_?"

"Some local carpenters built a little wooden teahouse in a public park and now the city wants to tear it down. It's _art_ , Liv! Art needs to be free!"

To you it sounds less like art and more like a future crime scene, but you leave him to his protesting (after promising you he won't get himself arrested). You send a quick text to the squad letting them know that everything's good as you're arriving at your building, and once you're inside your apartment you head straight for the kitchen and take your photo out of your purse, hanging it on the fridge along with Noah's latest artistic masterpieces. 

After that you eagerly shed your jeans and sweater, trading them for sweats and a t-shirt before climbing into bed. You had arranged to take the entire day off because you didn't know how you'd be feeling after the appointment, and now you're grateful that you did so that you can catch up on some of the sleep you've missed the last few nights while you were worrying about the baby. It was such a relief to lie down now, hand pressed against your belly, knowing that (for now) you both had a clean bill of health. You'd even gotten the okay to have sex- talk about relief- as long as you didn't 'overexert yourself'. (Both you and The Boyfriend had looked a little like kids who'd been caught hooking up in the backseat when she told you that). You'd wanted to, uh, indulge a little in your newfound freedom once you'd left the office, but The Boyfriend was late for a meeting so you were out of luck. He promised he'd make it up to you tonight. You told him if he didn't come home with that cheeseburger he owes you, the only action he'll be getting will come courtesy of his right hand.

With visions of bacon dancing in your head, you drift off to sleep.

_{the closer I get, the more I see_  
why everyone says that I look happier  
when you're around, the better I feel} 

You awake to the sound of little feet skittering across the hardwood floor. "Mommy! Mommy!"

"Noah, sssh, Mom's sleeping," you hear The Boyfriend say, but Noah's already charging on ahead down the hall. 

Any worries you might've had about him holding onto a grudge from this morning vanish as soon as he bursts through the door, babbling excitedly about something you can't quite understand. "Hi there, baby! Mommy missed you today. Did you have fun at school?"

He climbs into bed and launches himself into your lap, giving you a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "Grass, momma! Grass!"

"Grass? Did you go to the park?"

He frowns at you, irritated that you would even ask such a question, and then goes back to 'talking' as fast as he can get the words out while he waits for you to follow him. "See? See grass?"

Sure enough, there it is sitting on your kitchen counter- a large colorful terra cotta flowerpot filled with...grass. You look over your shoulder at The Boyfriend, who just shrugs.

"It was sitting at the door when we got here." 

"And you didn't bother to check and see who it was from?"

"Who else? Nick." You pick up the card sitting next to it, which informs you that the grass is 100% organic, locally grown and allergen-friendly (what about people who're allergic to grass?) and that, 'for best results', you should give it 'homebrewed tea made from compost' instead of water. Great, even your plant is a hipster.

After dinner, while Noah's splashing around in the tub under The Boyfriend's watchful eye, you take advantage of the rare quiet moment to give Nick a call. Again.

"Did you get the grass I sent?"

"Uh, yeah, I did. Thank you, that was...unexpected! I've never gotten grass before."

"Flowers are so mainstream," he explains. "Grass will keep regenerating itself, plus it gives off fresh oxygen so it's good for you and the baby. And it's chemical-free, so there's really no reason you couldn't eat it if you wanted to. It's a good source of fiber-"

"Yeah, I don't think I'll be eating it," you say before he can launch into a pseudo-scientific speech on the benefits of fiber. 

"All the proceeds go to charity- they hire creators of failed startups and vintage clothing shops to hand paint the flowerpots."

"Wow. That is...wow." You chat a little while longer about his physical therapy, his afternoon of protesting (he didn’t get arrested), and his weekend plans with Zara before you hear a beeping noise on the other end.

"Oh- shit, I forgot what time it was. That's Amanda." 

"Tell her to stop making bets with Carisi on my baby," you joke before saying goodbye. She and Nick had some sort of long distance friends with benefits thing that you didn't quite understand, but they both seemed to be fairly happy with it for the time being and so you've decided not to interfere. You're secretly skeptical, of course, but you're keeping your mouth shut.

Besides, you've got enough in your own life to occupy your mind. After you've finished Noah's bedtime routine and tucked him in for the night, you stand sideways in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to gauge whether you look any pregnant-er than you did this morning. 

The Boyfriend takes one look at you and tries not to laugh. "I didn't say anything!" he protests when you turn and glare at him.

"Yeah, nice try. I can hear what you're thinking." You shut the door behind you, leaving it open a crack before you get undressed and into the shower. A couple minutes later, you smile to yourself as you hear him get in behind you, wrapping his arms around your (still flat) stomach. "You done making fun of me now?"

"I wasn't! It was kinda cute, that's all. I couldn't help it." You were in the midst of washing your hair and so he takes over, massaging your scalp in circles, and you sigh because damn, if that isn't the best feeling in the world. 

When you turn around to rinse your hair off, he takes advantage of the way your head's tilted back, baring your neck to him. He kisses a trail up from your collarbone to your jawline while one hand reaches for your breast and the other cups your ass, pulling you in closer. "I warn you, if you're starting something you don't plan on following through with..."

"You're _warning_ me?" he asks, eyebrows raised. 

"I'm pregnant, I'm allowed to be demanding. So don't push it..." Your voice trails off as he takes you by the shoulders and gently turns you around again, soapy fingers running downward all the way from your shoulders to the backs of your thighs. "Shit. That...that is good. Really good." 

He repeats the motion a few times and then adjusts the showerhead so that the water cascades down your back. "Go get dried off and I'll be right behind you in just a sec."

"You're kicking me out?"

"Just while I finish up." He pulls back the curtain slightly, prodding you toward that direction. "The hot water's running out and I don't want you to get cold, so go."

"You're ridiculous," you say, drying off quickly and half-wrapping the towel around yourself. As soon as you finish, the water shuts off and he steps out, pretending to be surprised that you're right there waiting.

"It's like you want something." Before you can reply, he reaches out and lifts you up, carrying you out into the bedroom as your legs automatically wrap around his waist. "Figured I should do that now while I still can." You roll your eyes and he sets you down on the bed, motioning for you to lie back as his mouth dips down in between your breasts. "But even when I can't, you're still going to be so fucking sexy, know that?"

"Do you have a pregnancy fetish you never told me about?" you ask, groaning loudly in appreciation as his teeth graze one of your nipples ever so lightly.

"Only you," he promises before his tongue soothes the spot where his teeth had just been. One of his hands travels up your thigh, and then he pauses. "Can I...?"

"God, yes," you say, reaching out for the back of his head as he kisses your stomach and then continues downward...

_{this land is mine but I'll let you rule}_

Later on, you're half asleep when you feel him reach out and start running his fingers through your hair. He loves that you've let it get long again. You do too- sometimes. As much as you once wanted it to grow out, you're thinking it's not the most practical choice for a working mom of two small children. But you'll hold off on cutting it for as long as you can, precisely because of moments like this when you snuggle closer to him to signal your approval and he kisses the top of your head. "You want me to let you sleep?"

"Mmmno," you murmur. You still haven't opened your eyes, and they stay closed so you can fully absorb the feel of his mouth on yours, of your tongues colliding and his palms smoothing over your skin as he hikes up the old t-shirt of his that you're wearing. He nudges your arms up above your head so he can pull the shirt off without you having to sit up, and you leave them in that position as he nips at the sensitive flesh on the inside of your arm. It's an area that's still littered with scars, more than a few of them self-inflicted, but once again he doesn't seem to notice. He's too busy whispering deliciously dirty things into your ear about how much he wants you, legs straddling yours and grinding against you in case there was any doubt. He kisses the pulse point of your upturned wrist, pulling your underwear down and off and and then stroking you with a practiced rhythm, one fingertip pushing inside you until he hears your displeased whine. "No. Just fuck me."

He doesn't hesitate to do as told, bracing himself with his hands to keep his weight off your stomach as he thrusts into you. You're a little disappointed, because you love the feeling of having him on top of you, love the sense of security you get when you're pinned underneath him. But he knows this, so he compensates by pulling your legs up around his waist and leaning forward so he can hold your arms down. "Better?"

You nod, all the tension draining out of your body as he fucks into you again and again, picking up the pace as his movements become more erratic. Your back arches sharply as he reaches down with one hand, rubbing your clit roughly until you lose it and he kisses you to muffle the sound of your moans.

"I...oh, fuck," you sigh, one last shudder running through your body when you feel him coming inside you. " _Fuck_."

He laughs, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him. "Happy now?"

"Yeah. Yeah I am." You yawn, pleasantly drained and content to fall back asleep with him holding you just like this. You're both quiet for a moment until you break the silence with a soft "Hey. Baby?"

"Mmm?"

You still don't say it much. Maybe it's time for that to change. "I love you."

_{I'm in love and always will be}_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _READ ME:_** As you know if you've read the last three chapters, I've been purposely vague about The Boyfriend's identity. Of course, this makes it hard because there's obviously things I can't write about without giving it away (for example, if The Boyfriend were to say something about never having kids before/having five kids with his ex-wife). But I've thought a lot about both potential storylines, because each of them would be so different. Which brings us to this chapter. This is a "what if", as in "what if Brian was The Boyfriend?" _The Boyfriend's true identity remains a secret. This is only a hypothetical._ (heh) If you like bensidy, then read and enjoy. If you *don't* like bensidy, then be patient, because the next chapter will be EO. If you hate bensidy so much that you can't even bring yourself to read this, then that's okay, because you can pick up from the next chapter without having missed a thing. Just tell yourself that this chapter was one of Olivia's crazy pregnancy dreams. Got it?
> 
> **A/N:** this chapter is pretty tame. No real sex or violence to speak of. Quotes from _vindicated_ by dashboard confessional and _a sorta fairytale_ by tori amos.
> 
> As always, I love feedback and I thank you for it in advance...unless you're just going to complain about a lack of elliot, in which case I'll know you're bad at following directions and/or reading comprehension. He'll be back next time and there will be abundant EO goodness, I promise.

_{I am selfish, I am wrong_  
I am right, I swear I'm right  
swear I knew it all along} 

"What the he...eck are you _doing_ in there?" Brian calls out from the living room.

"Getting dressed!" You give your reflection in the mirror a critical appraisal, wrinkling your nose slightly at what you see and pulling the shirt you had on up and over your head. "Five more minutes. That's all I need, I swear."

"You said that 20 minutes ago!"

Ignoring his complaints, you dig through your closet in search of any items you might've overlooked the last three times you went hunting. You're at an awkward stage where none of your old clothes fit right but you haven't gained enough weight yet to justify buying new stuff when you know this is just the beginning. At not quite 12 weeks you finally have a (small) baby bump, much to your excitement, but fully clothed you just look like you're bloated and have a hell of a boob job. Which is not the look you're going for today, aka the big day, aka the day where you're going to break the news to the Cassidy family.

Not that what you wear is going to matter that much. You'd decided to put off telling them until now, wanting to wait until you were almost out of the first trimester and you had gotten all your test results back, because you weren't sure how they would react and you didn't want to make an announcement only to have to retract it later. So you cried with relief when your doctor called to say that Little Bean wasn't showing any signs of possible birth defects at this point...and then you cried because you knew you couldn't keep avoiding this day for much longer.

To put it simply- they hate you. You're pretty much public enemy number one as far as the extended Cassidy clan is concerned, and you can't imagine that announcing your pregnancy is going to do anything to change that. Hell, you fully expect that their first reaction will be to ask you whose baby it is. If you're lucky, maybe you can get through lunch before someone suggests to Brian that he really ought to demand a paternity test before he gets too invested in this whole fatherhood thing.

You know it's all your fault in the first place. You understand why they don't like you, and frankly you don't blame them. They're looking out for their loved one and you deserve the skepticism. Doesn't keep you from feeling guilty, though, and it doesn't keep you from worrying that one of these days he's gonna wake up and realize they're right about you.

"YAY BALLS!" Noah shouts, running into the bedroom and belly flopping on the rug like he's sliding into home plate. Baseball is his newest obsession, so much so that Brian's taken to saving games on the DVR in anticipation of the off season. In the meanwhile, it's all ESPN and YouTube videos of players stealing bases over and over. And over.

"Noah, baby, Momma just got you looking so nice." You glance at yourself one more time, decide the shirt you have on is the winner simply because it hides how your jeans are unbuttoned, and then kneel down to fix Noah's disheveled hair. "Don't you want everyone to see how handsome you are?"

"You ever heard that saying about rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic? Cause that's kinda what you're doing right now," Brian says, picking Noah up and purposely ruffling his hair (much to the little boy's delight).

"Brian!"

"It's my mom's birthday party, not a baby beauty pageant. Now c'mon. The longer it takes, the worse he's going to look by the time we get there."

You reach for your glasses and then hesitate. "Maybe I _should_ take Nick up on borrowing his old car. That way, if things get bad, I'll just come back here with Noah and you can stay as long as you want."

"Babe." He reaches out for your arm with his free hand, trying to nudge you toward the door. "We're _fine_. If it gets that shi- bad, I'm leaving too."

"But that's not fair to you, just because-"

"No. I'm not letting them chase you away. We're sticking together, the three of us."

"Four," you remind him.

"That's right," he says, grinning at Noah. "Little man's going to be a big bro! Gimme five?"

You watch Noah lift up his outstretched hand, smiling fondly. The two of them are so inseparable at this point that it's hard to believe they haven't been together from day one- again, much to the chagrin of his family, who seem to think your only motivation for getting back together with Brian was wanting a (temporary) baby daddy. This all came to a head a couple of months ago when neither his mother nor any of his sisters showed up to Noah's adoption party. You had been livid but tried to keep it together for Brian's sake, knowing it hurt him more than he would admit. As far as you know, he hadn't spoken to any of them since then save for one of his sisters, who insisted that the two of you and Noah should be at his mom's birthday. (Of course, she has no idea you're pregnant- that info might have changed her opinion had she known...).

Noah obligingly falls asleep the minute the car starts moving, giving you and Brian time to discuss your plans for his upcoming second birthday. He's been to a few parties for his daycare classmates that appeared to cost more than the entire amount you've budgeted for his college education, and while you don't have the means or desire to compete on that level, this is the first year he has actual little friends and so you feel like you should do something more than have the squad over for pizza like you did for his first birthday.

"I feel like you're overthinking this," Brian says when you tell him about all the elaborate ideas Nick has been sending you for toddler games and fair-trade crafts and make-your-own-gluten-free-sundae bars. "This is _our_ son. Remember him? He spent an hour yesterday playing with a box of kleenex."

_Our son_. You duck your head and smile, hair falling in front of your face and hiding the slight blush on your cheeks. "Whose fault was that?"

"Hey, I didn't see you taking them away from him either." It had started with Brian giving him a nightly 'reward' of getting to pull a tissue out of the box after he brushed his teeth (and yes, you know your days of being able to use this sort of thing as a bribe are sadly numbered). Last night he had ran off with the whole box, flinging kleenex left and right while Brian just laughed and started recording the action on his phone. By the time you saw what was going on, the box was already half empty and honestly, Noah looked so happy that you didn't have the heart to stop him. So you let him have his fun, and then you informed Brian that it was up to him to take charge of clean-up.

"I just want to do something special for him, you know? I mean, this is his last birthday as an only child. Speaking of which...I've gotta show you the little doll cradle Nick's getting him."

"Nick's making this?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"God no. He has a friend who's into carpentry- although I think he wanted to paint it. I told him please, no kittens."

"No. One weird cat painting from Nick in our apartment is enough." You're amused (and thankful) that this is Brian's only objection to your idea of getting Noah a newborn doll for his birthday. Being the only boy in a house with four older sisters, he grew up with plenty of hand-me-down 'girl' toys and even a few outfits- you have a picture of him as a baby in a pink striped sleeper to prove it- and, as he says, 'I think I grew up to be pretty alright'.

Baba O'Reilly plays softly from the stereo, reminding you of all the trips you made out here after Brian had been shot and was recovering under his mother's watchful eye. You probably drove more miles that summer than you had driven in all the rest of your life combined ('and not even for sex,' as he had once remarked). Well. At least not most of the time. You're pretty sure you'll never be able to look at his mom's guest room with a straight face again, thinking about the time she arrived home early while you and her son were back there...uh. Brian was still moving pretty slowly at this point, leaving you struggling frantically to try and help him get his pants back on before Mrs. Cassidy came looking for you. In the end, you managed not to get caught, but it was definitely not a situation you ever dreamed you'd find yourself in at the age of 44.

It's hard to believe that was only a little over three years ago, when the two of you were just 'exclusive friends' and kids were so far off your radar as to be practically invisible. Now here you are, back at the same house as a couple with a kid in tow and another one on the way. You examine your reflection in the side mirror as you pull into the driveway, making a face. "I knew I shouldn't have worn this shirt. Honestly, do I look like I'm showing too much cleavage?"

He glances sideways at you. "Uh, no."

"You pervert. I'm serious here, should I button the top button? But then it looks like I'm trying to choke myself, and-"

"I'm serious too! I promise, I would _not_ let you show up dressed like a-" He looks in the rearview mirror, seeing that Noah's awake and alert. "A...working woman."

You shake your head as you get out of the car and go around to the side door to get Noah unbuckled. A couple of Brian's cousins' kids run past you in play clothes- as Brian predicted, Noah looks a little overdressed in his baby business casual ensemble of a button down shirt and khakis, but you don't care. "Please be a good boy while we're here," you whisper to him, kissing the top of his head. "You and I have to make a good impression, okay?"

"Okay Momma," Noah says seriously. Now, if only he had any idea what he was agreeing to...

"Olivia!" someone calls out, and you turn around to see Brian's sister Michelle standing there with her own toddler on her hip- albeit this one is her grandchild. "Hi there, Noah! I'm so glad you guys could make it."

You smile appreciatively and thank her, trying to urge Noah to say hello as well. Even though you're pretty sure Michelle doesn't actually like you, she's the only sister who does a good job of faking it, and she even sent a gift for Noah when she couldn't make it to the adoption party. "Thank you so much again for the dinosaurs. He's...well, he's hidden them all over the apartment. We find them everywhere."

"Better than stepping on them," she says knowingly.

"Isn't that the truth." Noah's eager to let go of your hand and explore the backyard, and you're perfectly happy to avoid socializing with the adults under the guise of keeping an eye on Noah while he plays. This arrangement lasted a grand total of ten minutes before a storm cloud rolled in out of nowhere and the rain started to pour from the sky. Well, it was nice while it lasted, you think to yourself as the two of you run for cover.

Once you get inside, you see that someone has made a tent in the corner of the living room by draping a sheet over the backs of a few chairs. Noah's eyes light up when he spots Michelle's grandkids inside it, playing a game that seems to consist of throwing Lego pieces out of the tent.

"Let him go play," Brian says when you tell Noah he has to stay with you.

"But I can't keep an eye on him if he's back there."

"He'll be fine. There's nothing he can destroy, and you'll hear him if they start fighting."

Against your better judgment, you let Noah take off toward the tent and when you don't hear any protests from the other kids, you join Brian on the couch. He puts his arm around your shoulders and despite your general dislike for public displays of affection, you lean into him and look around the room like you're daring anyone to say something about it.

No one's really talking to you, but no one's talking _about_ you either, so you consider that a win. Another one of Brian's cousins comes in, toting a baby carrier with a sleeping infant inside. She sets it down on the floor beside her and you watch the little baby with interest. She's moving her tiny hands in her sleep, sucking on a pacifier that's practically half as big as her face. You look over at Brian and see he's watching her too. _Soon_ , he mouths, and you bite your lip to hide your grin.

Your pregnant woman bladder starts screaming again so you get up to go take care of business, purposely averting your eyes when you pass by the guest bedroom. When you come back to the living room, you see that the baby is now awake, smiling- and sans pacifier. You also notice that the makeshift tent is missing an occupant. "Where's Noah?" you ask the older girl, who points toward the guest room with a look that says _don't blame me, it wasn't my idea_.

As she predicted, you find Noah there, hiding in the corner of the room. "Noah, are you...?"

He looks up at you with guilty eyes and a pacifier in his mouth, knowing he's busted yet continuing to suck defiantly. " _Noah_. That's not yours, you can't take things that don't belong to you."

"What's up?" Brian asks as he appears in the doorway, seeing Noah and trying hard not to laugh. "Oh man! He needed a fix."

"This isn't funny," you complain. It'd been a major battle to break Noah of the pacifier habit, but you thought you were finally done with that for good- until now.

"C'mon buddy, you're a big boy. Remember? Pacifiers are for babies." Brian tries to take the contraband item out of Noah's mouth, only to be met with the jaws of life. "Liv? A little help here?"

Surprisingly, none of the takedown methods you learned at the academy were any help when it came to trying to pry a pacifier away from a not quite two year old. But then Noah made the grave tactical error of opening his mouth to let out a scream loud enough to wake the dead, giving you just enough time to recover the stolen property. That's criminals for you- eventually they'll always crack under the pressure.

Noah continues to wail as you sheepishly return to the living room to hand the pacifier back to its rightful owner. Baby Ella's mother assures you that it's not a big deal, that Ella hasn't even noticed it was missing because she was too busy sucking on her fingers, but you still can't shake the feeling that everyone else in the room must be judging you for raising a thief. Stealing other people's pacifiers, other people's husbands- like mother like son, right?

_{in too deep now to ever swim against the current}_

"Food's almost ready," Mrs. Cassidy announces from the kitchen, and you and Brian glance at each other wordlessly before you give him a nod. Noah's finally cried himself out, much to everyone's relief, and now is curled up in your lap sulking and looking forlorn.

Brian rubs his hands together, grimacing like he's trying to psych himself up for an interrogation. "Uh, yeah. Before we eat? I've kinda got something to say. Or we do, I guess." Now all eyes are on you. "Mom? Did you hear me?"

"I'm listening," she says as she comes out of the kitchen. She's got a smile on her face, but everyone else seems to be watching you warily as if they're convinced you're about to...what? Make a public announcement that you're fucking someone else on the side again?

"Well. Uh. Turns out we're, uh, well. _We're_ not, but Olivia is. Olivia's pregnant."

Now everyone just looks confused, and you're wishing you could sink right in between the couch cushions and hide in there like Noah's toy dinosaurs. "I'm, we're...the baby's due in April," you manage to blurt out in a rush.

Michelle is the first to break the silence. "That's- that must have been quite a surprise."

"Yeah, we didn't think-" You give him the side eye before he can start rambling about your lack of birth control or your biological clock or _whatever_ might be about to come out of his mouth. "But we wanted Noah to have a sibling, so...we're excited."

He's smiling, you're trying to smile, and everyone else is looking around the room for some sort of cue as to how they should act. The consensus seems to be that they should continue to stare at you, mouths slightly agape. "The middle of April," you repeat, as if someone might have missed that piece of the announcement amidst all the celebration.

More silence. You look frantically at Brian, willing him to say something, _anything_ to distract from the mounting awkwardness.

Noah squirms in your lap, tugging on your sleeve to make sure you're listening. "Noah pooped," he informs you (and the whole room).

Well. Not quite the 'something' you were hoping for- but you suppose it'll do.

_{I am flawed but I am cleaning up so well}_

By some miracle, the weather had cleared up by the time you finished eating. You had managed to get out of having to sit with the group by staying with Noah, who was happily munching away on a blanket you'd set out on the living room floor, oblivious to the tension all around him.

"Why don't we take Noah outside so he can play," you suggest quietly to Brian, the look on your face letting him know this wasn't just a suggestion.

"Sure thing. Hey Audrey," he said, turning around to look for his niece, "we're gonna go have Noah run laps around the yard until I'm sure he'll sleep for 14 hours tonight. Want us to take yours too?"

"Go for it," she says, and as you bend down to tie Noah's shoe, you notice Mrs. Cassidy is alone in the kitchen.

"Bri, on second thought- you go ahead and take Noah, and I'll be there in just a sec."

"Is everything okay? You feel alright?"

"I'm fine," you promise, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek to reassure him. "I've gotta...Fin's on call and he left me a message, so I should make sure it's nothing urgent."

He accepts this answer and you watch him herd the kids out the door before you slip into the kitchen, hoping no one else will come in and interrupt you. "Uh, Joannie? Could I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, what is it?" she asks, and for all the murderers and rapists you've gone toe to toe with on the job, there's no way you should be _this_ nervous about a conversation with your boyfriend's mother.

"I know that...this whole baby announcement, it must've been a shock. And I know you're probably not thrilled."

"Oh, I didn't say that."

"And thank you for...I'm glad you didn't. But I can tell that you're, ah, surprised," you say, choosing your words as diplomatically as possible. "And maybe not in a good way."

"Well. It's not that I'm unhappy about having another grandchild."

"I know. It's me that's the problem." You shake your head as she starts to open her mouth, and you start to reach out and touch her arm before you think better of it. "You're not...it's okay if you feel that way. I wish you didn't, but I understand. I've made mistakes. And I've changed, but I still have to live with the consequences. I get that. I can't ask you to like me; I get that too. But all I'm saying is please, please don't take it out on Brian."

"I'm not angry with him. I know he's an adult and he can make his own decisions," she says, scrubbing furiously at some invisible stain on the countertop.

"But he knows you don't approve. Like when you didn't come to the adoption party...it bothered him. He might've acted like it didn't, but it really did."

"I told him, it was the same day as Crystal's graduation, and that's a lot of driving for one afternoon."

Good thing police work has made you a master at deflecting excuses. "Yeah. But you could've called, or..."

"I called him the next morning- it's not like he was actually involved in the adoption anyway." Ah. So there it is.

"You know that...eventually, I hope he'll be able to officially adopt Noah too. It just takes time and in the meanwhile- we've worked it out with our attorney that he's legally Noah's guardian. He has basically every right that I do and if God forbid, something happened to me, Brian would be the one to raise him."

"But that's all under _your_ control, isn't it? He loves that little boy like he's his own...but he's not."

You bite your lip, looking downward for a moment. "I know you probably don't believe a word I say, but all I can do is ask you to trust that...as much as I want this to work with Brian, I can't promise that we'll be together forever. No one can. But I _will_ promise you that no matter what happens with him and me, I'd never try to keep him away from the kids. I consider Noah to be every bit as much his child as this baby will be and...he will _always_ have a place in their life and he will _always_ be their father."

"And now with this baby he'll always have one more thing tying him to you," she says after pausing to consider this, still not looking in your direction.

"He will. But he knew that when...well. We didn't really plan on _this_ , as far as me getting pregnant, but we knew we wanted another baby. He was actually the one who started talking about it first," and you're not sure if saying that will just make her more convinced of her son's poor decision making, but you wanted it to be clear that this wasn't some sort of plan you hatched to further trap him in this relationship. "That he trusted me enough to make that kind of commitment- because you're right, it means we'll always have that tie to each other- I don't take that lightly. I love him, I love the life we have now and...I'm trying not to screw it up this time."

She nods, finally setting down the sponge she's been using. "I know he's happy. I don't doubt that. And it's not that I dislike you..."

"But you don't trust me, either," you finished. "And like I said...I guess I don't blame you. I just don't think it's fair that Brian or Noah, or this baby, has to be punished for it. Because I want you to have a good relationship with your grandchild, and I hope you can accept Noah too regardless of how you feel about me. Even if you have to fake it. I know what it's like to not be accepted by your family because of who your parent is and...I'm not going to let that happen to my kids."

Her face softens a little. "Brian told me about how you never knew your dad. That he was some sort of criminal."

"That's...yeah. That's one way to put it. He was...well, he raped my mother. And then nine months later, I came along."

"Oh. Honey. I had no idea," she says, the look in her eyes changing from suspicion to sympathy. "I'm so sorry. I...I don't know what else to say other than that."

"That's okay. It is what it is...but that's why I'm so sensitive about Noah not being treated any differently just because we're not his bioparents. Especially with this new baby coming. I don't want to make Brian have to choose sides, I really don't, but I'm not going to have my kids around people who they can tell resent them."

She's silent again for a long minute, and you can't tell what she's thinking until she looks back up at you, head slightly tilted to one side. "I didn't get a chance to ask...how's the baby doing? You must've had a couple of appointments by now, right?"

"I have," you say, not bothering to point out that she had plenty of chances to ask while everyone was sitting around with their mouths hanging open. She's trying, and that's all you can ask for. "We did the whole battery of first trimester tests and everything looked good, so that was a relief. We're doing our best to stay positive- well, _I_ am. Brian does a lot better job of that than I do."

"And how've you been feeling?"

Horny is the first word that comes to mind, so you quickly search for a more appropriate second opinion. "I feel like I've been lucky so far, honestly. I get nauseous a couple of times a day but I'm still able to eat, and I'm tired a lot-"

"But you have a two year old! That's just expected."

"Exactly," you say with a laugh. "And I want to make sure I spend as much one on one time as I can with him now...but mostly I'm just trying to enjoy this and remember everything. I know this is probably the only pregnancy I'll ever have, and probably my last child so...my mom never got the chance to go through all this and have it be a good thing, the anticipation of having a new baby on the way, so I guess I want to make sure I appreciate it all as much as I can."

She reaches out and pats your hand. "I'm sure your mom would be proud if she could see you now."

"I...I hope so. I'm trying." You blink rapidly to clear your watery eyes before you change the subject. "Before I forget, we have a present for you."

You go over to the hall closet and reach into your purse for the gift in question, apologizing for the lack of wrapping (Noah had took it upon himself to unwrap it this morning and you didn't have time to fix it). Still, she looks pleased to see the little framed ultrasound snapshot. "Thank you, honey. I'll keep this with the rest of the photos of the grandkids until we get newborn pictures."

"You...I mean, you're welcome," you say, smiling although you're a bit flustered. "I should go check on Bri and Noah, they're probably wondering where I am, but...I appreciate you taking the time to hear me out."

You'd already turned to leave before you heard her say your name. "Olivia? I know you guys have a regular babysitter, but if she's ever not available and you need someone to watch Noah- well, you've got my number."

"I do. And I...I think he would like that."

You give her another grateful smile and then follow the sound of Noah's laughter outside.

_{all in all was a pretty nice day}_

Brian knocks on the closed bathroom door. "You okay in there?"

"Yeah, I'm in the tub. Door's open if you wanna come in." You tilt your head back to see him, covered up to your shoulders in bubbles. "Has he stayed quiet?"

"So far so good."

"What are we going to do when we have another baby? Are we out of our minds?" Your plan to wear Noah out at the Cassidy house had backfired epically- by the time you got home, he was too overtired to sleep. Instead, you had yourselves a toddler who was cranky, miserable, and oh so awake. "We can't even figure out this parenting thing with _one_ kid."

"Hey, I got him to go to bed, didn't I?"

"Only because you let him have some more kleenex!"

He shrugs, sitting down on the bathroom floor so you're at the same eye level. "Uh, but it _worked_ , and I didn't hear you coming up with any better ideas so...I think this is where you should be thanking me."

"Oh, should I?" you ask, purposely splashing him. "I don't want him starting to think that life is just a series of things you do for bribes."

"But isn't that really all it is, when it comes down to it?"

"Don't get philosophical with me, Cassidy. This is how it starts. Next thing we know...I don't want to be dropping him off at college and telling him he can have a whole box of kleenex if he keeps his grades up."

"Yeah, I'm _pretty_ sure that's not gonna happen. He'll have discovered money by then."

You groan, sinking further down into the water. "You're so helpful."

"Okay, fine. Next time he throws a tantrum, that's it. No playing around. He'll go to his room and we're just gonna pretend like we don't hear him. Even if he screams all night, that's how it goes. No rewards for bad behavior."

"Or...we could tell him he can have a kleenex if he shuts up, and then we can actually get some sleep." There's not even a question about which option you'll choose. "You think we'll be any better at this by the time Little Bean's this age?"

"Hey, we're doing alright. That's what my mom said, anyway."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "She did?"

"I know, it caught me off guard. But she said he looks happy, and he's lucky to have you. Well, us...but especially you."

_Wow_ , you think. You wait to see if his mom had mentioned your conversation to him, but when he doesn't say anything more, you assume she hasn't. Which is for the best, actually. If she really is going to make an attempt, you'd rather he think it was solely on her own initiative.

He snickers to himself and you raise an eyebrow. "Problem?"

"No, just...remember that time when we were over at Mom's and we thought she'd be gone for a few more hours, so-"

"God, yes. Yes, I do. I can't believe we..." You groan, shaking your head.

"You think she suspected anything?"

"Uh. Yes."

"Y'know...we never got to finish what we started."

"You don't say," you drawl, watching the flash of red as your painted toenails peek out from underneath the bubbles, trying to act like you have to think about this even though he knows he's pretty damn irresistible to you at the moment. "I'll be out in a few minutes. Just lemme enjoy the last of the warm water."

"I'll go check on Noah...oh, hey. I forgot to say, Mom must've remembered that his birthday's coming up, cause she asked what he wanted."

"What'd you tell her?"

"Eh. I said, just get him a box of kleenex."

_{like a good book I can't put this day back  
a sorta fairytale with you}_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! It's been a long time, but I finally got around to this update. Real life has been calling...but if you follow me on twitter, you know that's not all bad. On that subject, this chapter is lovingly dedicated to all of you (it seems like millions) who knew about #marcheercy2K15 and somehow kept it a secret! Best surprise ever.
> 
> **READ ME:** As you know if you've read the last few chapters, I've been purposely vague about The Boyfriend's identity. Of course, this makes it hard because there's obviously things I can't write about without giving it away (for example, if The Boyfriend were to say something about never having kids before/having five kids with his ex-wife). But I've thought a lot about both potential storylines, because each of them would be so different. Which brings us to this chapter. This is a "what if", as in "what if Elliot was The Boyfriend?" The Boyfriend's true identity remains a secret. This is only a hypothetical. (heh) If you like EO, then read and enjoy. If you hate EO so much that you can't even bring yourself to read this, then that's okay, because you can pick up from the next chapter without having missed a thing. Just tell yourself that this chapter was one of Olivia's crazy pregnancy dreams. Got it?
> 
> A/N: this chapter is pretty tame save for a relatively tame sex scene. Quotes from _vindicated_ by dashboard confessional and _a sorta fairytale_ by tori amos. And yes, I've reused some of the quotes from the bensidy chapter, either as some sort of artistic device or because I'm lazy.
> 
> As always, I love feedback and I thank you for it in advance...unless you're just going to complain about a lack of brian, in which case I'll know you're bad at following directions and/or reading comprehension. Also- this chapter ends on a questionable note, but I will make everything better in the next chapter, I promise.

_{I am selfish, I am wrong_  
I am right, I swear I'm right  
swear I knew it all along} 

"She's here."

"Shit," you curse under your breath as Noah chooses this exact second to dump an entire bucket of blocks onto the floor. "Noah! Mommy _just_ put those away, you're not supposed to..."

"You took all his toys away, what'd you expect him to do? Sit quietly with his hands folded in his lap?" Elliot asks.

"Actually, yes. That would be perfect."

He picks Noah up so you can collect the blocks, quickly tossing most of them into the bucket and kicking the remaining few under the couch as the doorbell rings. "C'mon buddy, you wanna see who's at the door?"

The identity of your visitors isn't actually a surprise to anyone but Noah. It's Friday night, meaning Kathy is here to drop Eli off for the weekend and you've been cleaning frantically in anticipation of her arrival. Elliot thinks it's unnecessary at best and ridiculous at worst to spend hours making sure the living room is immaculate since Kathy never really lingers, just brings Eli up to the front door of your apartment and then leaves as soon as she can, but today you're hoping she'll stay a little while longer.

Elliot opens the door to his ex-wife and son both wearing the same sullen expression on their faces. He reaches out and ruffles Eli's blond curls, pretending he doesn't notice how unenthused the little boy looks. "Hey there!"

"Hey." Eli glances over at you and then Noah as if confirming that you were, unfortunately, still here before answering his dad. "Mom said you'd take me to get ice cream."

"Oh yeah? How about you and Noah and I walk down to the place on the corner before it gets dark?"

He considers this. "And _she's_ not coming?"

"No, Olivia's gonna stay here. It'll be just us guys." Elliot looks over his head toward Kathy. "Alright if I bring him home at five on Sunday?"

"Don't be late. He's got homework to finish once he gets back," she says, not bothering with pleasantries or even acknowledging you exist.

"Right." Elliot sets Noah down so you can get his jacket zipped up while he unfolds the stroller. "You ready to head out, Eli?" He glances over at you as Noah eagerly takes his seat, knowing this means he's about to go somewhere fun. "Liv?"

"Uh, right. Kathy...do you have a second? I wanted to talk to you before you leave."

Kathy looks startled, glaring at Elliot when she realizes the two of you orchestrated this 'just us guys' outing so that you could have a moment alone with her. If it's any consolation, Elliot himself doesn't even know your motive behind this conversation, but you can't exactly tell her that right now. "Oh. I...yeah, I suppose so."

"Go give your mom a hug goodbye," Elliot urges Eli. Noah watches the older boy embracing Kathy and holds his arms out, whining to be unbuckled from his seat so that he can join in on the hugging. Kathy smiles warmly and indulges him, patting his back, and you wonder if you should think it's cute that Noah's oblivious to the tensions in your fractured family or if you should worry that wanting hugs from a woman he barely knows is a sign of attachment issues.

You make a mental note to ask your therapist about it and then wave goodbye to Elliot and the boys, nervously turning your attention to Kathy. "So. Kathy. I know Elliot's told all of you about the baby."

"Oh, that he has," she says with a sardonic smile, arms crossed over her chest. "I don't know why I was surprised. Should've seen that one coming, right? Good to know my husband still hasn't figured out what a condom does."

There are two things bothering you about that statement- for one, he's no longer legally her husband. Secondly, since when did she become such an advocate of 'unnatural' birth control? (Since you started sleeping with her ex-husband, probably). But nevertheless, you hold your tongue because you know this can't be easy for her...and because you need her as an ally. "Yeah. Anyway. That wasn't actually what I wanted to talk to you about...not specifically. I've been doing some thinking about this whole first communion thing."

It had been the subject of so many discussions as of late; Eli's upcoming first communion and all the fanfare that went along with it. Beyond the actual service, there was a 'family banquet' for the whole second grade class the night before, followed by a huge bash for Eli at the Stablers' house (well, Kathy's house) the next evening. And Elliot wanted you there for _all_ of it.

Suffice it to say, this is where he and you disagreed. Your relationship with God was a complicated one, second only to your relationship with the extended Stabler clan- and the combination of the two along with dozens of judgmental near-strangers? Way too much for your already confused, overemotional pregnant self to handle. But Elliot doesn't seem to get it; the irony of taking your pregnant former mistress to church on the day of the 'feast of the immaculate conception', so you've been forced to resort to extreme tactics.

"Uh-huh. And you were thinking- what, exactly?" Kathy asks, raising an eyebrow.

"That you and I need to be on the same page as far as...look, I know this is a big deal for your family. And Elliot's adamant that I should be involved. But. Eli's been through enough, and I don't want my being there to take away from...it's his day. And it's _your_ day too, it's your son, and I know you're going to have your friends and family there. So I don't know how comfortable you are with, ah. With me being around. Especially since I can't promise this," you say, resting a hand on your small but growing baby bump, "won't be obvious by then."

"By December? Oh, it will be," she assures you, and as eagerly as you're anticipating the day that it is, you can tell she's not sharing your excitement.

"And that's what I'm saying. I don't want to be a distraction."

"How kind of you."

You resist the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she realizes you're on her side here. "I just don't want you to have to worry about-"

"About what, introducing everyone to the woman my husband ran off with? Because I think all of them already know."

"But do they know about the baby?"

"What do you think, Olivia, that I sent out a mass email to everybody because I couldn't wait to share your good news?"

"Okay, Kathy, look." You tolerate her snide attitude towards you, for the most part, because you can't blame her. If you were in her place, you'd be bitter too. You know you deserve her venom, at least to a degree, and you know she's still reeling from the news about your baby but this is getting ridiculous. "This is me trying to help you. Now, do you want me there or not?"

Her eyes get wide and she tilts her head slightly like she never expected you would give her a choice. "Oh. Well. I..."

"It's alright," you assure her when you notice her hesitation. Even though she has no problem slinging barbs your way when it comes to your relationship with Elliot, she's fundamentally a kind, well-mannered woman and she's not going to straight out uninvite you. "I just want you to tell me what you think is best for Eli. I know I'm not always his favorite person, and-"

She sighs, reaching for your shoulder and then pulling her hand back before she can make contact. "Olivia...I hope you don't take it too personally. It's not you he's angry at, it's the situation."

_Which you caused_ , you mentally tack on to the end of that sentence. "No...I'm pretty sure it's me. Especially now with the baby..."

"He'll adjust. He's getting along better with Noah, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he's...warming up to him. I told El they should do something fun together on Sundays after church, just him and Eli, and I think that helps."

"I didn't know that was your idea," she says. "But thank you for...I know you must not get much time to be all together as a family, so that's generous of you."

"Of course...it means a lot to both of them." Kathy has been surprisingly good about letting Elliot see Eli even more than they agreed on in the divorce settlement, but you know that not being able to see his son every day is still the hardest part of the split for him. You give Kathy a tight lipped smile, which she returns, and you can tell you're both getting uncomfortable with this sudden burst of mutual politeness. "So, ah. Back to what I was originally saying...I'm wondering if we can work together to convince El that I shouldn't be there. Maybe if we come at him from both sides..."

She laughs. "Since when do...you think my husband actually listens to anything I say?"

"Yeeah. Look, I know it's probably just a reflex, but if you could _not_ keep calling him your husband, I'd appreciate it." You don't think it's an unreasonable request but you still hesitate to ask, afraid of revealing too much of your own insecurity. Elliot did do a pretty good job of curbing the instinct to tell you that "Kathy always did such-and-such" or "Kathy and I did it this way with our kids" after you told him how much it bothered you to have to hear about the Stabler Method for every. goddamn. thing. You know he doesn't mean anything hurtful by the unsolicited advice, but sometimes you find yourself having to remind him that you're not Kathy, you're Olivia, and life with Olivia isn't going to be just like it was for him over the last thirty years.

Of course- you're not always ready and willing to change your ways either. So it's still a work in progress. But in the meanwhile, she can stop saying 'my husband'.

"Oh. I didn't realize I was- it's just that..." She pauses, shakes her head. "In any case, I don't know why you think he'd listen to me."

"Well, _I'm_ not having much luck. You know how he gets when he has his mind set on something. That's why I'm hoping that if we come at him from both sides- he has no choice but to hear us out."

A corner of her mouth turns up in silent understanding, but you can see a momentary flash of surprise on her face and you're puzzled. Surely she didn't think everything was nonstop rainbows and smiles over here? If anything, you'd be willing to bet you've had more fights with him over the years than she has. "I'll do my best."

"All I want is for you and Eli and your whole family to have a really good day. After everything that's happened in this last year...Eli deserves it."

"Aren't you suddenly so considerate."

"Kathy-"

She holds up her hand to cut you off. "I should get going if I want to make it to church on time for my class." A picture on a nearby shelf catches her eye, one of you and Elliot enjoying a summer day at the park with an infant Noah, and she brushes her fingers over the corner of the frame. "How've you been feeling?"

"Hmm?" you ask, caught off guard.

"I mean, you're what, thirteen weeks now? That first trimester was always the worst for me."

"Oh. Yeah, I'm..." You fumble for words to describe your current state without mentioning how you have the raging hormones of an average 16 year old boy. "I feel like I've been fortunate. There's bad days, but honestly I thought I'd be sicker than I am."

"I'd bet anything you're having a girl. I was miserable with my boys, not so much with my girls."

You can't help your tiny smile at hearing that. "Everyone but me thinks it's a boy."

"Nope. Not with how the weight's all gone to your face and your chest," she says matter of factly. You're a little uncomfortable with her analysis, afraid that next she'll take a guess at the color of your cervix or something (a question that you honestly don't know the answer to).

"Ah, well. I guess in a few weeks we'll find out who's right, won't we?" you stammer.

"Trust me- by now I know these things." You're relieved when she starts to make her way out the door, but then she stops again and shakes her head at another picture on your wall- a painting of a cat given to you as a housewarming gift by one Nick Amaro. "Aww, look at that. Eli's just so creative these days. I love it."

_{I am seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself}_

The apartment was silent. Silent and dark, save for the light streaming from a single small lamp in the corner of the room as you sat down with your treasure. You crossed your legs in front of you, opened the container, and the first spoonful was millimeters away from your lips when-

"Is that...are you eating _frosting_ out of the can?"

_Busted!_

You turn around to see Elliot standing behind you, snickering at your choice of bedtime snack. "Yes. Actually, I am. I've wanted it all evening and so now I'm gonna have it."

"Is that all you wanted? Chocolate frosting?" he teases, sitting down next to you and pulling you towards him until you're straddling his lap. "Cause if it is, I can go."

"No way. You're not going anywhere. I've been waiting impatiently," you say, running your index finger along his lower lip until he sucks it into his mouth, tongue licking at the little bit of chocolate smeared on the tip. When you moved into the new apartment together a couple of months ago, you and he and Kathy had a highly uncomfortable conversation in which you came to the agreement that you and Elliot would sleep in separate rooms when Eli was there. You think that the cat's really out of the bag about the nature of your relationship at this point, now that Eli knows about the baby, but he still gets excited about sleeping in the big bed with his dad and so you're not going to deprive him of that.

"Mmm, I'm sorry," he says, kissing a line underneath your jaw and down your neck. "Took Eli a while to fall asleep."

"And you're surprised? He's probably going to have nightmares after all those videos you let him watch." You were pleased when Eli and Noah found something they both enjoyed- watching baseball clips on YouTube. But then Eli took it upon himself to show Noah something that Dickie had showed _him_ ; this compilation of cars colliding and cars bursting into flames and cars overturning and rolling down cliffs and basically meeting any horrible fate a car could suffer. They weren't gory, but something about your son cheering and applauding as a truck crashed head-on into a rock wall didn't sit well with you.

Elliot, for his part, thought it was great harmless fun. "What do you think he's gonna do, go out and steal a semi so he can drive it off a bridge?" he asked, hooting loudly as a VW bug on screen did just that.

You shook your head and walked away, texting Nick to ask if he'd let his own kids watch something like that. When he immediately replied with "HELL YES- link pls?" you decided it must be a male thing and thought, not for the first time, that it might be nice to have a daughter to break up this testosterone-fest.

"He's fine. Relax," Elliot assures you again, his hands rubbing your sides underneath your t-shirt.

"That's what my frosting was for."

"Well maybe I-" He stops moving when he has one palm covering the middle of your stomach, looking curiously down at where your shirt has ridden up above his hand.

"What. What're you doing?"

"You really do have a bump now, don't you?"

"Um...I guess?"

He chuckles. "Honestly. It's bigger than it was yesterday."

"How do you know that? You can't tell how much it's grown in a day."

"I can. I promise," and you roll your eyes but he's still got you looking downward, trying to see if you could notice any change from the last time you'd studied your profile in the mirror that morning. You know it's silly and Elliot's quick to give you a hard time if he catches you, but it's still part of your daily routine. It makes you smile every time, no matter how sleepy and nauseous you might otherwise feel, because for the first time in years you can look at yourself and see something other than your scars. You see proof that it's real, this healthy little person thriving and growing inside of you, and as much as he teases you about it, you can tell just from the look on his face that Elliot's as excited as you are.

And now when you lie down on the couch cushions and he's hovering over you, kissing your stomach reverently, it's hard to believe that you ever doubted how much he wanted this. You were skeptical even when he was the first one to bring up the idea of another baby, unsure what his motivations for wanting a seventh(!) child really were. Your fear was that he was only doing this for you, to give you the family you always wished for, and not because he had any particular desire to be a father again. After all, he already had one late in life baby _and_ he had suddenly become the parent of a toddler all over again. But then you think about how over the moon he is every time Noah reaches a new milestone, like he's never seen a kid accomplish such feats before, and you think about how he kissed you when you told him the news and how he falls asleep every night with his hand on your belly, and suddenly you don't have a doubt in your mind.

"You're sure Eli's asleep?" you ask as he pushes your shirt higher until it's bunched up to your underarms.

"Promise."

It's an unsung benefit of police training, the ability to stay unconsciously attuned to even the smallest of sounds while you're otherwise occupied- so you're trusting that your instincts will kick in if either of the kids start stirring. And they better not fail you, because you're sure as fuck not paying attention to anything else when he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, lapping at it with the very tip of his tongue.

"Mother _fucker_ ," you groan as he repeats the motion on the other side, suckling with an added intensity. They're still sore as hell, like you've just spent all day wearing a bulletproof vest (and those things were not designed for even the most flat chested of women), but he knows by now how to tell when it's too much and more importantly, he knows you like the pain, like right now when he pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger to get your attention as he makes a shushing noise.

It's a little bit of a thrill sneaking around like this, if you don't consider how mortifying it'd be to get caught. There was a time when you wondered if a big part of the attraction between the two of you was the illicit nature of the whole thing, the allure of doing something forbidden, and if there would be any sort of spark left once the secrecy was gone.

As it turns out, you were wrong. You can't believe how wrong you were and, as he slides one hand down inside your underwear and starts to slowly circle your clit with one finger, you don't even remember why you started thinking like that in the first place other than that you're-

"So fucking perfect," he says in a low rumble, and you can feel the vibration of his words against your skin when he finally touches you-

"Right there, oh god fuckfuckfuck..."

He swallows the rest of your words with a kiss to keep you quiet, and it seems like hours pass by before you finally break away for air. "You good?" he asks, kissing your forehead despite the beads of sweat forming at your hairline.

"Uhh-huh," you hum emphatically, like he doesn't already know that he just made you come three times in a row without even hardly trying. Pregnancy has made you an incredibly cheap date.

You shift around to take some of the pressure off of your back and he shakes his head when he sees the pillow you've been lying on top of. "I wish you'd get rid of that thing."

"You'd change your mind when I'd be up all night bitching." His reason for despising it, of course, is that it was a present from a certain ex-boyfriend who shall not be named. The relationship might've been irreparably broken but you had hung onto that pillow, for practical reasons more than sentimental ones. You still occasionally reached for it when you went through phases where your nightmares came back in force, but in the last couple of months it'd become a lifesaver when you used it to relieve the lower back pain that kept you up at night. "For something the size of a peapod, your baby does a hell of a job pressing right up against my spine."

" _Our_ baby."

"Nope. It's yours when it keeps me awake."

"That your way of saying I should just go ahead and plan on being the one who gets up for all the night feedings?"

"Well, since you offered..." You lie back down and reach for the back of his neck to pull him down with you, feet planted firmly on the cushions and legs spread out on either side of his so you can feel his erection nudging insistently at the inside of your thigh. "Something you need?"

"Shit, that's...but you don't have to, honest, I know you're tired. Just wanted to make you feel good," he says, kissing behind your ear.

"And you did, but I'm not that tired. So I can either sit here and eat my frosting while you go back to bed, or..." You wiggle out from underneath him, heading toward the guest bathroom just off the living room, and you laugh when you see his slightly puzzled look. "Trust me, what I wanna do to you...I'm going to need a little more privacy than this."

_{in too deep now to ever swim against the current}_

Sometimes you start to seriously wonder what the hell you're going to do when you have two kids.

Today was one of those days.

It started with you waking up to both a tremendous headache and a severe bout of nausea, the likes of which you hadn't experienced since you stopped binge drinking. It was so bad, in fact, that you wondered why you even still had a headache when you were pretty sure you had literally puked your brains out. How delightful.

Despite this minor annoyance, you really did feel a bit better by the time you finished throwing up. But by then the boys were awake- and things started going downhill again.

Your original plans for the day involved a trip to the zoo, because it was something both kids would enjoy and you'd found that Eli was more pleasant if he wasn't cooped up inside all day. But the weather outside was just this side of Hurricane Sandy-esque...time for a new plan. One that involved an almost-two year old and an almost-eight year old entertaining themselves safely and sanely within the walls of your 900 square foot apartment.

This was not a good plan.

"I miss Dory," Eli complains, throwing himself backwards onto the couch and sulking. Dory was the cat Elliot had bought for Eli when he moved out- with the strict instructions that she was to remain only at the house in Queens. "Why can't she ever come here with me?"

"You know the rules. Noah can't have pets in the house with his asthma," Elliot reminded him. It was partially true, and it made for a good excuse, but you secretly suspected Elliot was actually a little afraid of cats and didn't want one wandering around the place.

"This SUCKS. I'm bored."

"Go read your library book. Your mom said you have to finish it while you're here so you can write your book report when you get home."

"HE doesn't have to," Eli says, glaring at Noah.

"But he has to take a nap in a half hour," you point out. Elliot tells Eli that he can have a reprieve from reading if he plays with Noah until naptime, to which Eli sighs loudly and stomps off toward Noah's room.

"Don't look at me like that," Elliot says to you. "I wasn't the one who shut down the party when everyone was getting along. Twice."

"They had enough screentime for one day; they already spent hours on the iPad last night. And did _you_ really want them doing gymnastics in the living room? I've already been to the ER enough this year and-"

"Welcome to having sons." Elliot chuckles and you glare at him like Eli had just been doing. You don't think you're some rigid, overly strict mother, but Elliot has a way of making you feel like you are. Is it honestly so out of line to think that the kids didn't need to be jumping and doing somersaults on a mattress pad they dragged out of Noah's room? Apparently it is, according to Elliot, who only put a stop to it when Noah wanted to try jumping off the back of the couch.

"Fine, I'm going downstairs to get the mail. Please make sure no one needs stitches before I get back..."

As you slip your shoes on, you see Noah running down the hall with his baby doll in hand. Eli is unimpressed. "That's such a gay toy, Noah."

"Eli!" Elliot barks.

"What? It is!"

"You don't use that kind of language, understand? He can play with whatever he wants."

You close the door behind you before you can hear his reply, hoping against hope that you'll return a few minutes later to two little boys getting along happily, playing a game that's safe (and quiet).

No such luck. As soon as you step inside you're greeted by the sound of Noah letting out a shriek, followed by a long wail.

You go running into Noah's room to find him crying and holding a scratched up knee while Eli shouts "He started it!"

"Eli, _what_ did you do?" you ask, picking Noah up to comfort him.

Eli ignores you and turns toward Elliot, who's standing in the doorway. "I didn't do it! He was throwing kleenex around so I tried to take the box away and he _bit_ me!"

"So you pushed him down?" You now notice the dozens of tissues scattered around the floor, along with a pretty good-sized teeth mark on Eli's hand.

"I didn't mean to! He was biting me and I was trying to get away and he fell!"

Noah obviously can't plead his side of the case, but you know he's bitten kids at daycare before and so you're inclined to believe Eli's telling the truth. "But still, if you knew he was doing something he wasn't supposed to, why didn't you go get your dad instead?"

"Go wait in my room, Eli, and I'll be in to help you get that bandaged up in a second," Elliot says.

"Why'm _I_ the one in trouble?"

"Don't worry, Noah's in trouble too," you promise him. "He knows he's not supposed to be biting. But you're older, so you should know better than to start fights."

"She's right, Eli. Now go."

Eli does as his dad says, but not before turning around and announcing that "I liked it better before my dad moved in here with YOU."

"Eli-" Elliot starts to say, but you cut him off.

"Just don't, El, I get it." Eli had only come to stay with you in the new place half a dozen times or so, and you knew he was still adjusting. You and Noah had spent time with them during Elliot's weekends before that, of course, but you always had your own apartment to go back to so Eli didn't have to 'share' his dad so much. "Help me get Noah ready for his nap?"

You get him changed, decide that his knee doesn't need a bandaid- although he'll have a nice bruise forming soon- and get him into his crib while sternly reminding him that biting is bad. "He's not gonna remember what he did, Liv."

"Oh, he does. He knows it's wrong. Even if he doesn't- what am I supposed to do, just let him get away with it? And why weren't you watching them?"

"I was right there in the kitchen. I could hear them just fine."

"Oh? So you must have heard them fighting, right? Why didn't you go stop them?"

"I did when I heard Noah start to cry," he argues. "I'm not gonna break up every little argument or else they'll never learn to solve anything themselves."

"So you'll just let them start wailing on each other. That'll teach them."

"Liv, for God's sake, you know I wouldn't. It escalated before I could stop them- but they'll live. They're brothers, they'll do a lot worse to each other over the years. You can't watch 'em every second."

You know he's probably right, and you know he'd never purposely sit back and let World War III break out, but you're also fucking tired of his 'I'm so laid back because I know so much about parenting' shtick. "Fine, whatever. Just go talk to Eli."

You close the door to Noah's room and start peeling off your sweatshirt because you're suddenly feeling sweat dripping down the back of your neck- pregnancy has a way of messing with your inner thermostat. You're not even really thinking about what you're doing or who might be watching until you hear Eli's startled voice.

"What the hell happened to your arms?"

"Language!" you and Elliot both remind him in unison before either of you realize what he actually said. You look over at Eli, whose expression is visibly concerned, and then back down at your arms. Oh. _Oh._

"I'm okay, Eli, I just-" You glance at Elliot, momentarily flustered. It honestly hadn't occurred to you that Eli had never seen you in a sleeveless shirt before and you didn't want to scare him. "I mean-"

"That's none of your business! Who told you that you could ask questions like that?"

You see Eli's face sink even more when his dad admonishes him, and you reach for Elliot's elbow to tell him it's okay, that you can tell the little boy really is worried and not just being a brat. But the entire day is hitting you at once, you're in pain and frustrated and overwhelmed and sleep deprived and you just can't find the words. "I...I'm sorry, Eli, I've gotta..."

"Now see what you did?" you hear Elliot ask as you hurry toward the bathroom, intermixed with Eli's little voice pleading 'I didn't mean to, Daddy, really...it's not my fault!'

_{I knew then it would be a lifelong thing  
but I didn't know that we could break a silver lining}_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC- happy ending to come, I promise :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nick bakes again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's been a while since this was updated, so thank you for your patience!
> 
> As before, the identity of The Boyfriend remains a mystery in this chapter. But if you want some EO-themed domestic goodness in this universe, you may want to check out Almost Home (a two shot, maybe more at some point in the future) or As The Sun Does Set (a one shot, definitely NSFW)
> 
> **A/N:** This is a very PG-rated chapter and I can't think of any necessary warnings. All quotes from _don't panic_ by coldplay.
> 
> In the next chapter- deep bensaro conversations, sexytimes, and the big party. Should be posted by the end of the week. In the meanwhile, enjoy this and please feel free to let me know what you think!

_{all that I know is  
there's nothing here to run from}_

"Maaaaa!"

It's the best sound in the world- your son's excited voice as he rushes to the door to welcome you home every evening. You'd love to scoop him into your arms, but you know you're not supposed to be lifting him unless it's absolutely necessary, so you settle for crouching down to give him a hug. "Hello there, little man! Did you have a good day today?"

"Good day," he confirms before babbling away about something only he understands.

You look up at The Boyfriend, then over at the kitchen, which seems conspicuously clean. It's not that you expect dinner to be on the table the moment you walk in like some sort of 50s TV husband, but you're pregnant and tired and starving and...yeah, okay, you expect dinner to be on the table the moment you walk in. "We're, ah, running a little behind schedule. But don't worry, pizza should be here any second now."

"Meat Lovers?" you ask hopefully, Little Bean having turned you into some sort of raving bloodthirsty carnivore.

"A large. All yours."

You let out a nearly orgasmic groan of pleasure at the thought. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"Hey, anything for Momma. Right, Noah?"

"Noah two," he reminds you before running off in search of his Legos as soon as you stand up.

Noah two, indeed. His second birthday had been two days ago, and he had already celebrated twice. There had been a little party with hats and singing and cookies on his actual birthday, attended by two of his daycare friends, and to your complete surprise, Grandma (aka The Boyfriend's mom) had asked if she could do something for Noah last weekend. She ended up having the three of you and some other assorted members of The Boyfriend's family over for dinner and bought Noah a stack of presents that was taller than your son himself. It was the first overt gesture she'd made as far as including him as a part of the family, and the gift mountain wasn't really necessary, but perhaps it was her way of trying to make up for lost time. In any case, you had been incredibly touched and it took everything you had to keep your hormonal self from sobbing on her shoulder out of gratitude. (Instead you went out to the car and sobbed until you were fit to interact with other humans again).

But the festivities weren't over yet. On Sunday, you were having your side of the family- aka current and former squad members- over to eat brunch and shower Noah with attention. (At this point in his life, a captive audience is about the greatest gift he could receive). You have three days remaining to prepare for this event and you haven't even really started, you haven't-

"Hey," The Boyfriend says softly, coming up behind you in the doorway of your bedroom. "I called your office this afternoon and Carisi said you were out."

You should've known this was coming. "What the hell was he doing answering my phone?"

"Where did you go?" he asks in return. He's not angry, not accusatory, but he's still not going to let you dodge the question.

"Hospital." When he sighs, you turn around so you can look straight at him, hands resting on his forearms. "Hon, I had no choice. Our witness would only talk to a woman, and with Amanda out on vacation- what else was I supposed to do? I knew that if I didn't get her statement now...the second this woman's discharged, we're never gonna see her again."

"And that's all you did?"

"Yes. I promise. What, you don't trust me?"

"I do. Of course I do," he assures you, reaching for your shoulders and pulling the sleeves of your blazer down your arms. "More than anyone, you know that. But I worry. Can you blame me? I've got two of the most important people in the world to me, right here."

"Yeah, yeah," you say with a little smile. He knows that, if anything, you've been overcautious at work ever since you got that positive pregnancy test. Being sergeant means you spend most of your days behind a desk as it is, so it wasn't that huge of an adjustment to make. Fin has taken on the role of being in charge when the squad's out in the field, Rollins deals with most of the vics, and Carisi sets his alarm to make sure you take the time to drink water and walk around a little every hour ("It's important for your circulation and helps keep your ankles from swelling," he explained). You know it makes The Boyfriend feel better, that you're surrounded by people who're watching out for you and Little Bean- but he still calls a couple of times a day just to make sure they're doing their job.

He tosses your jacket onto the bed and starts undoing the buttons on your shirt while you rest your forehead on his shoulder. It's become your favorite daily ritual, shedding your Sergeant Benson attire and reverting back to being 'just Olivia', and it's hard to believe there was a time when you thought that Benson-the-cop was all you'd ever be. You're not yet ready to give up your other identity, but in your heart you know that every day it's becoming less and less of a priority. There's so much else to your life now.

You pull on leggings and a tank top once you're finally undressed, pretending not to notice the way The Boyfriend's looking at you. This may well be his favorite part of the day too, even if it's more of a practical gesture than it is some sort of foreplay when you have a toddler who's liable to come rushing into the bedroom at any moment...like right now. "S'prise!"

"Surprise? What's the surprise?" you ask, letting Noah climb up on the bed and into your lap.

"S'prise!"

"Alright then!" You laugh, pointing toward your stomach. "Do you want to say hi to the baby?"

"Hi baby," he repeats, poking at your side a few times before he hears a knock at the door and takes off toward the living room at full speed.

"Must be the pizza. You wanna get that, Liv?"

You frown at The Boyfriend. "Dressed like this?"

"Here," he says, tossing you a sweatshirt as an afterthought. "Just go."

You zip up the hoodie, confused as to why he's so insistent that you be the one to go to the door and why he's so unconcerned that the pizza guy might get an eyeful of your cleavage. Noah's doing jumping jacks as he waits for you in the entryway. "S'prise!"

"No, that's our food," you tell him, gently shooing him away so that you can open the door. You're so busy trying to keep him from rushing into the hall that you don't even get a look at the delivery guy until you hear an unexpected voice.

"Someone here order a pizza?"

You gasp, one hand clapped over your mouth and the other one flying out to grip the doorframe as you recognize the face of the person in front of you. " _Nick_?!"

"S'prise!" Noah yells again, collapsing into a giggling heap on the rug. "S'prise Mom!"

_{homes places we've grown}_

"Don't worry about it, I'll take care of the dishes. You two go on and put Noah to bed."

"You sure, Nick?" you ask. "I don't want to keep you if you have...plans."

"Nah, we're good. And I need to talk to you guys about the P-A-R-T-Y."

You roll your eyes as you herd Noah toward the bathroom, pulling clean pajamas out of the closet and trying to decide if you could get away with just giving him a quick sponge bath. It was already past his bedtime, and even though he was in a cheerful mood now after getting to play with Tio Nick, you knew he would be a real pain in the ass for his preschool teachers to deal with tomorrow morning if he didn't get to sleep soon.

"But...But...no!" he howled when you knelt down to help him get dressed, knowing that this meant playtime was over for the night.

"Tio will be back tomorrow," you promise him. "He's gonna be here all weekend."

"S'prise?"

"Yes, it was a very good surprise. Go let Dad help you brush your teeth and then we'll read a story."

The surprise, of course, had been Nick (who _did_ have an actual pizza with him, much to your relief). Once you saw him, it all made sense- Amanda's sudden request for vacation days, The Boyfriend 'ordering pizza' and making sure you were the one at the door, Noah's random outbursts of 's'prise'.

"We worked on that one all afternoon," The Boyfriend admitted. "But he wasn't gonna cooperate. Then you get home and he starts saying it and I thought shi- shoot, he'll give it away...alright, break it up," he grumbles when you won't let go of the hold you have on Nick. "He's not going anywhere. You can cuddle later when the neighbors aren't watching."

"It's just been...so long since I've seen him!" you explain tearfully. (You've never understood people who cry out of happiness- at least, until you got pregnant. Earlier that morning, for instance, you had gotten a little lump in your throat when Carisi found your missing stapler).

It actually hadn't been _that_ long- about ten weeks, give or take, since you said your goodbyes at his farewell party. You were already about a week pregnant at that point, but of course you didn't realize it yet and blamed your sour mood on him leaving. Now, though, there was no mistaking it. "Can I...I'm not trying to feel up your girlfriend, man, I promise."

"I'm watching you," The Boyfriend warns, taking the pizza boxes into the kitchen as Noah follows along beside him.

Nick appraises your bump carefully. "It looks bigger than it does on Skype."

"There. Now are you convinced that I'm eating?" He texts you several times a day to make sure you're getting enough fruits and vegetables ("Fiber, Liv.") and taking all your vitamins.

"It's not just about eating. It's about eating the right things. Good nutrition is-"

"Please just shut up and let me enjoy my pizza."

And he did, but not without noting that he got a vegetarian pizza for himself because the girl at the counter didn't know if the beef came from 'free range' cows. There wasn't much room for conversation over dinner, anyway, in between you stuffing your face and Noah clowning around to impress your guest. He had been going nonstop ever since Nick walked through the door, so you weren't surprised now when he dozed off midway through your reading of Snuggle The Baby (one of several new books he had gotten for his birthday, all with the same theme). The Boyfriend is careful not to wake Noah as he picks him up off your lap and lays him down in the crib, which is now missing a side railing after you discovered that he could climb out on his own. "Amaro, if you really want to make yourself useful, there's a toddler bed that needs to be put together."

"This party is my priority," Nick tells The Boyfriend, scribbling furiously on a notepad. "I flew all the way across the country just to make sure your son's birthday doesn't suck. You're welcome."

"Uh-huh. It had nothing to do with Amanda?" he asks.

Nick doesn't look up from what he's writing. "There's...a lot of people here that I miss. Now c'mon, I need to know what party theme you decided on."

"Uh, birthday themed?" Nick had been incredibly disappointed when you told him that Noah's 'friend party' didn't have any one of the dozens of themes he had suggested. You chose a color scheme- blue, Noah's favorite- and bought hats and balloons and streamers all in that color instead. Despite what Nick had predicted, none of the toddlers seemed disappointed by the lack of a theme with coordinated decorations and food and activities. As it was, they spent most of the time running back and forth under the streamers hanging in the doorway, and when that got boring they just yanked them all down.

"So does that mean I can do whatever I want?"

You look over at The Boyfriend, silently gauging his opinion with your eyes. Although you know that whatever Nick comes up with will likely be cringe-inducingly over the top, you _do_ want Noah to have the kind of birthday bash you never had growing up. He won't remember any of the parties he's had this week, of course, but at least someday he can look back and see just how much he was always loved by all the adults in his life. And when he's a teenager making fun of how tacky it all looked, you can tell him to blame Nick. "Please don't make me regret this."

"You won't, I guarantee it. So I'm thinking about decorating, and I know where I want to take this, but for starters...how would you feel about me painting your living room walls green?"

_{we live in a beautiful world}_

Noah's birthday wasn't the only party Nick had on his mind.

A few weeks earlier, when you had a battery of tests done at your OB's office, she had mentioned that you would be able to find out Little Bean's gender once your bloodwork came back from the lab. Deciding that you wanted to know if your bean was a boy or girl as soon as possible was a no brainer for you and The Boyfriend. You both were eager to know as much about this little person as you could, to start calling him or her by name and 'introducing' her to others. It would also potentially save the two of you from six more months of the Daniel vs Julian argument that had been going on for weeks now. If it was a girl- Lillian. You had agreed on that one right away. But for whatever reason, picking a boy's name had been trickier. You didn't really have anything _against_ Daniel; you just liked Julian better, and you thought that your status as the one who actually has to give birth to this baby meant that the decision should ultimately be yours.

In any case, you thought this would be a simple process. Test results come back, you talk with your doctor, she says 'it's a girl/boy' and everyone's happy. Easy as that. At least, until you mentioned it to Nick over the phone one evening.

"You're just going to have the doctor tell you?" he had asked, unimpressed. "And then what? How are you going to announce it to everyone?"

"Uh, I figured I'd just say 'hey, we're having a boy. Or girl'."

"That's it?"

"Am I supposed to do something more? Maybe I could have Noah holding the ultrasound picture and post a photo of it with a caption saying 'It's A...whatever'?"

"Is that really the best you can come up with?"

According to him, and Pinterest, you were supposed to find out the gender by way of colored pops/silly string/fireworks/etc. at some sort of themed party. Not just supposed to- it was practically required. Failure to comply could doom your child's life before it had even begun.

"For chrissakes, Nick, why don't I just have my OB email you when she finds out and then you can surprise us with it however you want?"

It came out much less sarcastically than you had intended.

"Really?!"

When you brought it up with The Boyfriend, his automatic reaction was "No. Absolutely not. Did I mention no?" He wanted to have the gender reveal be a private thing between you, not a party, and you tended to agree with him. However, you were able to come up with a compromise that made everyone happy. Your doctor agreed to mail that part of the test results to Nick without letting you see it first, and then Nick could give you and The Boyfriend the news however he wanted when he was back in New York for Thanksgiving (with one condition- no fireworks). Then you would tell the rest of your friends and family via phone or email or whatever "boring" way you chose.

Thanksgiving was still over a month away. But now that he had made this surprise trip east, he had hinted that maybe you wouldn't have to remain in suspense for that long.

As promised, he came back for dinner the next night. The Boyfriend was only too happy to give him free reign over your kitchen, and by the time you got home from work you had a full meal ready and waiting- just the way you like it. Nick may not be much of an artist, but he does know his way around the kitchen.

"Oookay sir, I think you're done," you say to Noah, who has become more interested in licking his noodles than actually eating them. Nonetheless, he still whines when you take his bowl away from him. "Sssh, help Momma clean your hands off and then you can go play."

"Wait, we still have dessert whenever you're ready," Nick chimes in. "Noah'll want to see this."

"No clue...he brought it with him," The Boyfriend says as you look over at him skeptically, wondering what this dessert might be.

"So you know I like making cakes," Nick says, coming back to the table with a covered tray. "And rainbow cakes are my specialty."

"Have you ever actually made one that turned out right?" you ask.

He ignores you and continues. "Which is why I thought I should do something similar for the baby! So I saw online how people made cakes where you cut into it and the inside is either pink or blue for a girl or boy, and this is what I came up with…"

When he motions for you to do the honors, you lift the lid off the tray to find a cake smothered in chocolate frosting with "congrats on the sex" written on top, complete with an obscene hand gesture.

"Nick," you sigh, feeling like you should cover Noah's eyes even though he obviously has no idea what he's looking at. You suppose you should just be grateful Nick didn't bake it in the shape of a dick or something equally embarrassing. When you consider the possibilities, this was relatively mild.

"Let's sing Happy Birthday to Noah and then you can cut it," he promises.

So you sing, much to Noah's delight, and you can't help but feel the tingle of nervous anticipation in your stomach because this is it! This is a huge, life-changing moment and for the rest of your days, you're going to remember this obnoxious cake and the moment you found out whether you were having a son or daughter.

"Who's gonna cut it?" Nick asks, clearly loving every second of this.

You tell The Boyfriend that he can, because you're too excited to keep a steady hand. Noah continues with his song, oblivious to what's going on around him or even that the adults have stopped singing, and you try to direct his attention toward the cake as you wait for the big reveal.

The Boyfriend cuts a piece, pulls it away from the rest of the cake so you can see the middle, and it's...

some sort of strange orangey-yellow.

"It's pink. That's gotta be pink," he decides.

You disagree. "Look, it's blue around the edges. That's definitely blue!"

"You're both wrong," Nick says, grinning like a cat who's just picked the lock on a cage full of canaries. "It's a rainbow cake! Because this baby doesn't need to be limited to one stereotypical color- it can have them _all_."

Blank stares all around. Even Noah looks confused. Finally The Boyfriend speaks. "So uh, is it a boy or girl or what?"

"Oh come on," Nick cackles. "You didn't really think I'd tell you before Thanksgiving, did you?"

You grit your teeth, trying to tell yourself that it would be in very bad form to kill a man while your son is watching. The Boyfriend looks like he may not be able to resist the temptation. Meanwhile, Noah has finally realized there's a cake within his reach.

"S'prise!" he squeals, mashing his palm in the frosting.

_{everyone here's got somebody to lean on}_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the 'conclusion' of sorts to the previous chapter. I managed to get this done by the end of the week like I wanted...and the next update you see from me will be TG, I promise. So stay tuned.
> 
> **A/N:** features moderately explicit sex, bensaro being BFFs, Nick being a hipster, a little bit of rollaro, and a few surprises. If you've read TG, you'll notice a few references here and there, and if you haven't, it'll still all make sense. All quotes from _eternal flame_ by the bangles.
> 
> Please feel free to let me know what you think, either here or on twitter (but don't tweet spoilers for the ending, por favor!).

_{I believe it's meant to be}_

It had only been a few hours since dinner, and you were already hungry again.

And still irritated with Nick for that rainbow cake trick. But mostly hungry.

Irritation aside, it was still good cake, and as soon as The Boyfriend decided to turn in for the night you were in the kitchen helping yourself to another piece.

"Want one?" you asked Nick, who was still hanging out on your couch with his feet propped up. "Or something else to drink? I'm sorry I forgot to tell you ahead of time it was BYOB."

"Nah, I'm good. And you know that doesn't matter to me- so the mister gave it up too? Solidarity?"

"I guess you could call it that," you say as you sit down next to him with your cake and a glass full of green juice. "It wasn't something I asked him to do but...I feel better this way." You can't imagine deliberately getting smashed, not when you already feel guilty enough about the few drinks you had before you even knew you were pregnant, but you also know you still have some very dark moments where your first instinct is to fall back on any one of your old coping strategies. "It's not there to tempt me- so I'm good."

"I see you're back drinking those nasty smoothies instead."

"Hey, you're the one who's always lecturing me about fiber, aren't you? Plus, Noah likes them too so I make us both one every morning. I'd never get a vegetable in him otherwise." You remember when you first saw that stupid infomercial for the juicer, full of all those glowing testimonials about how it changed lives. How you weren't far gone enough to be free of skepticism, but anything had to be an improvement over day after day spent barricaded in Brian's apartment without eating, without sleeping, with TV snake oil salesmen keeping you company night after night. So you bought it, and not surprisingly, it didn't change your life. But you figured out through trial and error how to make some damn good smoothies, and somehow your life changed in the meanwhile. "You know what's funny?"

"Uh...that stunt I pulled with the cake was pretty good. But no, what?"

"This is gonna sound so cliche. But I remember sitting right here with you, on this couch, being absolutely fucking devastated at _not_ being pregnant. How I felt like that door had been slammed in my face for good. And now I look back and I want to scream at myself- what the fuck were you thinking? Having a baby would've probably been the worst possible thing that could've happened to me then. Hell, I wouldn't even have been 100 percent certain whose kid it was. You know? God, or somebody, was watching out for me there...but at the time it just felt so final for some reason. It's like I had to give up on the idea before it could actually happen."

"And if you _had_ been pregnant then, you probably wouldn't have ended up with Noah," Nick points out. "I mean, it's still shitty that you had to go through that kind of disappointment anyway, but..."

"Yeah, exactly. I still wish I'd never gotten my hopes up about it in the first place. But now when I look at Noah, I can't imagine _not_ having him in my life, for any reason. It was destiny, and I think this little one is too. I think she- or he, but I know it's a she- was smart enough to hold off on making her appearance until now. Everything's still not perfect but...this feels like good timing."

"You're still sure it's a girl, huh?" he asks, his face carefully blank of any telltale emotion.

"I am. Intuition, I guess? Everyone else is thinking it's a boy but...well. I'd be shocked if it was." You look down at your belly, smiling softly. "I'm sure every mother says this, but I just feel like she's special somehow."

"Of course she is, because she's got me for a godfather! And I guess her parents are okay too. Her mom, at least. Dunno about dad."

You roll your eyes, giving his ankle a sharp tap with your foot. Nick and The Boyfriend are never going to be bros (are you even using that word right?), but they've finally stopped circling each other like territorial dogs and, dare you say it, even become friendly. "Yeah, yeah. She's lucky to have you. And I'm lucky that I've got so many people who love my kids," you say, taking a sip of your juice before you can get too emotional. "That's something else funny...I spent my entire adult life thinking no child would ever want me for a mother, and that's why it just wasn't gonna happen. And then Noah kinda fell into my lap, literally, but this little bean...I think about how unlikely it was for me to get pregnant in the first place, and how something like eighty-some percent of women my age miscarry before they get to the point I'm at now. But somehow I've got this baby who's perfectly healthy so far and...I know we've got a long way to go and there's so much that could still go wrong, but..." You give up and set your glass down again, swiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. "If God forbid, something was to happen- I'll know for sure it had nothing to do with her rejecting me, us...cause for some reason, she obviously really wants to be here."

"Smart kid already," he says.

"And she's been so considerate to her mommy. Everyone keeps saying 'oh, the first trimester is when you feel the worst,' but it really hasn't been that bad. I think I've gotten off easy."

"Compared to what Maria was like when she was pregnant with Zara? Yeah, you have."

"I don't know if it's luck or just being old. I'm at the age where I've just gotten used to being achy and tired, so that part was nothing new. And now that I've said that- watch me be miserable for the next six months." You rest your palm on your stomach, the way you've started doing almost subconsciously. "She's got a lot of faith in me. I just hope I can live up to that."

"You will. I promise."

"And you're just saying that to suck up to me so you're sure we'll let you be the godfather."

"What?" he scoffs. "I'm not worried about that. It's already a done deal. Now I'm sucking up so I can be the one who gets to cut the cord."

"Are you insane?"

"You said I could be there!"

"Yes, 'there' as in 'at the hospital'. But anyone who wasn't there for the conception- isn't going to be there for the birth."

"Are you _sure_ I wasn't there?" he asks. "It's not like you've never had sex while I was in the next room and-"

"Okay, stop. Let's talk about _you_ now, shall we?"

He pouts for a few seconds but then appears to get over it. "I'm thinking of adopting a puppy."

"Oh really? The kids finally wearing you down?"

"Nah. I mean, they'll be excited, but I just...it gets hard being home alone sometimes." He shifts, scratching the top of his head. "I started seeing a therapist. Someone my PT recommended. She thought maybe having a dog around would be a good idea."

"Yeah? I didn't know that- about the therapist. But good for you."

"What a surprise, right? But I figured, if it worked for your boyfriend..."

"Is it? Working, I mean."

"I've only been there a few times, so it's hard to tell," he says. "But I think it is. Or maybe it's just being in a new place, getting away from...I feel like I'm becoming a new person. I get to spend a lot of time with my kids, I get to really focus on my art," and of course, his 'art', "and everything just feels so _free_ out there. I didn't realize that in New York...I was disconnected from nature. That's what I was missing. The _earth_."

"Well, if anyone deserves to be in a place that makes them happy, it's you. And I know your kids are happy there too, so that's even better."

"I guess. It's just hard being far away from so many people. My mom, you, Noah..."

"Amanda..." you supply.

"Yeah. Her too."

"Things been okay since you got here?" Asking about Rollins is always a delicate undertaking, although not on the level it was when they both worked for you. He knows you still don't entirely approve (of her _or_ the relationship), but that you're not going to interfere as long as it's not affecting you personally. After all, he's done the same for you many, many times.

"They're...yeah, they're good."

" _That_ sounded sincere."

"It was! I mean, everything's great. I missed her. I just..." He shakes his head. "I dunno. Do you think she's cheating on me?"

"Nick. May I remind you that when you left, I told you I'd watch out for her. Not that I would _watch_ her."

"I know, but you see her every day. Is she on her phone like she's texting someone? Does she act like she goes out after work? Does-"

"Enough." This is exactly what you try to avoid, being some sort of go-between, whether they're across the room or across the country from one another. "As far as I know, there's no one. But even if there was, don't you think she'd try to hide it from me? She knows it'd get back to you."

This appears to have only made him more anxious. "It's not like I can ask her- she'd kick me out on my ass."

"She would. So don't ask her. Besides, you really can't call it cheating when you two aren't even in a relationship. You never promised each other there wouldn't be other people."

"There hasn't been! At least, not for me. But...the women in California are really friendly. They find me attractive. And I say no to all of them."

"Because of Amanda?" you ask.

"No, because I'm not ready to start dating someone right now. But if _she's_ getting offers and not turning them down-"

"Then you need to be going out with someone just because she is? Nick, don't drag some poor unsuspecting woman into this just because she thinks you have a nice smile."

He flashes you a big grin with all his teeth showing. "I _do_ have a nice smile. But that's not why I'm...the whole reason for leaving things the way we did is so that we had some time on our own to think. And if she's not doing that..."

"Are _you_?"

"Yeah, at least...I thought I was. But I didn't feel like I was getting anywhere. And I thought that as soon as I was here with her I would just _know_ one way or the other."

"It's only been two and a half months since you moved," you point out. "Maybe it's just gonna take more time."

"But if I really want to be with her for the right reasons, shouldn't that be obvious by now?"

"Well. You've figured out the _wrong_ reasons. You knew moving in with her after you got shot would've been a mistake," and one that you were glad you were able to keep him from making, even though it meant him becoming a temporary resident in your apartment again, "and you know you don't want a relationship that's built on crisis. So it's not like you haven't made any progress. But if you rush into making a choice too soon- I guarantee that whatever you choose, you will fuck it up. And you _know_ I know what I'm talking about here."

He's quiet for a moment, absorbing this. "So you really don't think I can ask her if she's cheating on me."

"No. You cannot do that. Trust me." You glance over your shoulder at the clock in the kitchen. "It's late, and I'm sure she's waiting for you. Just go and enjoy...whatever it is you're doing, and stop worrying about what she may or may not be up to while you're gone."

"But I just don't get it. What is it with women that they just can't be alone? Why do-"

"Nick, that is a conversation for another night. Right now, the baby and I need to sleep, okay? I'll see you in the morning."

"I think I'm gonna tell her that I've turned down everyone who's asked me out," he says as you prod him toward the door.

"Okay. You let me know how that works out for you."

_{you belong with me}_

"You girls finished chattin'?"

You shake your head when you hear The Boyfriend's groggy voice from across the bedroom as you finish undressing, changing into an oversized t-shirt and tossing your dirty laundry into the basket. "Go back to sleep."

He doesn't reply, so you assume that means he already has. But a few moments after you've laid down and gotten comfortable, you feel his arm snake around your torso and pull you in closer, your shirt hiking up as you move until your bare ass is pressed against his thigh. You smile into the darkness and close your eyes again, unsurprised when his palm skims across the curve of your hip.

"Don't tell my baby daddy I let you get to second base," you joke in a low voice, his hand traveling over your belly to your breasts.

"Damn, I was hoping to get further than that." Lying on your side like this, the heel of his palm rubs against one of your nipples when he rolls the other between his fingers. "I won't tell if you won't."

He nudges you to lift your arms up so he can get your shirt off, then pulls you in toward him again and rocks his hips forward so you can feel his erection against the backs of your thighs. Your legs automatically part, one bending at the knee so there's room for him to slip his hand in between.

"God, look how much you want it," he whispers, mouth next to your ear, and you let out a long ragged breath as his fingers make contact with your slick heat. He moves them at an agonisingly slow pace before holding completely still to wait for your reaction, chuckling when you start to squirm with impatience. "You want me to fuck you?"

You don't bother to dignify that with a response other than pushing back against his body for leverage, his dick nestled in the cleft of your ass as you start fucking yourself on his thick digits. "Am I gonna have to do all the work here?"

"I got you, relax." You're waiting for him to slide his fingers in deeper, but instead he pulls them out and drags his fingertips along the curve between your ass and your thighs. You inhale in anticipation when you finally feel the head of his dick pressing against your entrance, only to be disappointed when he keeps on teasing you, thrusting forward until it makes contact with your clit.

"Please, god, I need it," and you must have uttered the magic words because suddenly he's fully inside you, giving you just a brief moment to adjust before he starts moving. This isn't normally your favorite position- he can't fuck you as hard and deep as he can otherwise- but it's late and you're tired so you'll trade all that to be able to stay spooned up against each other. Especially when he keeps his arm slung over you, hand rubbing back and forth over your chest and stomach. It's scratching an itch, literally and figuratively- the pink scar tissue criss crossing your torso is starting to itch as the skin stretches, and moisturizer only helps so much. His nails might be short, but it's nothing less than orgasmic every time they make contact with your flesh and you could probably come from this alone. Not that you're going to tell him that. "Fuck, that's- right there. Right there."

He does as instructed, placing open mouthed kisses on the back of your neck. "Know what I want?"

"Ahh. No?" Chances are it's something he doesn't think you'd say yes to under normal circumstances.

"I want a picture of you."

"You mean...like..."

"Yeah. Like this," and yup, your suspicions were correct. "C'mon, we both know you've done it before, right?"

You grab his hand, moving it back to where you want it. "That was a long time ago. Before..."

"No one else would see. I'll put 'em in the safe and delete the files off the phone."

"I'm...oh _God_...I trust you, it's not that." You arch your neck toward him and the tip of his tongue traces your pulse point. "Why do you want it, anyway? And if you say it's cause you'll get lonely while I'm out of commission after the baby, you're sleeping on the couch for a year."

He laughs quietly, his hand wandering back between your legs. "I think by then we'll both be too tired to remember what we're missing. But it's...you can tell me no and I won't mention it again, promise."

"Yeah, I'll- _fuck_ , I'll think about it. Really." In all honesty, it was kind of a turn on that he asked, that he felt like he _could_ ask for something that could potentially bring up all sorts of thorny issues. You like feeling pushed slightly out of your comfort zone without being fussed over like you might break. And he was right that the old you, the you that existed years ago, would've probably said yes without hesitation (at least once you had a few drinks in you). Not that you have that option now, but you do have a newfound self confidence that comes from being able to look in the mirror and see something other than ugly memories. So...maybe?

"I mean it, y'know, if-"

"Sssh. Shut up and fuck me while we still have the chance."

_{say my name, sun shines through the rain}_

"Tio!" Noah squeals when he hears a knock at the door, running toward it like a puppy who just saw its owner get out the leash. After the last three days, he's just started assuming that anytime there's someone at the door, it's Nick. But in this case, he's actually right.

Nick hands you the brown grocery bag as soon as you let him in, then bends down so that Noah can climb on his back for a piggyback ride. "Why is this so heavy? I only needed eggs, Nick."

"Cause he brought you some mason jars," Amanda answers, making a face once Nick's out of sight to let you know how she feels about this idea. "He wants us to eat out of them. Plates will ruin his party aesthetic."

"We're having an omelet bar. How's that gonna work? Omelets in jars?"

"Actually, I had a better idea," Nick says, and of _course_ he does. "Instead of doing that- when people come in, we'll just give them a couple eggs in a jar. Then they're free to do whatever they want with them. They're not constrained by your vision of what eggs should be."

"But they're our guests. That's the whole point, that we're cooking for them, not just handing them some eggs."

"They don't have to cook them if they don't want to! You're not thinking outside the box here. By doing this, you're _empowering_ them. Plus, eggs are a metaphor for life and growth and fertility. So it works on multiple levels," he explains, and you're kinda sad that The Boyfriend is still in your room getting ready, because his reaction to all this would surely be one for the ages.

Amanda pats your arm sympathetically. "Can I help you get the food ready while Nick's decorating?"

"You're a guest too, Amanda, you don't need to do that when I'm sure he's already put you to work on...whatever it is he's been designing." You glance over at Nick, who's watching intently while Noah shows him the same toy cars he showed him yesterday and the day before. "Actually, if you don't mind, can you give me a hand putting this stuff away?"

"Sure, of course."

She follows you into the kitchen and you set the grocery bag down before you turn back around to face her. "I wanted to thank you for being such a good sport about all this...I know it's probably not how you'd prefer to spend your time while Nick's here. But it's- I really appreciate you being willing to share him. It's been good having him around this weekend."

"Course, Liv," she says, and the absolute sincerity in her voice catches you a little off guard. So often it feels like the two of you are going through the motions with one another, doing what you need to in order to coexist day in and day out. But every now and then you feel like you're genuinely connecting with each other- and not just out of your shared loyalty to Nick- and it makes you wonder if maybe he's right about her after all. "Really, I don't mind. It's kinda fun. Since I don't have nieces and nephews, and I'm sure as hell not having my own kids, I gotta live vicariously through you and Nick, y'know?" She nods toward the living room, where he and Noah are batting a balloon back and forth. "He's a lucky little guy, Noah is. Never really had these kind of birthdays growing up. In our family, it wasn't a party without someone stealin' out of Nana's purse, and someone else getting into a fistfight out on the front lawn over a card game, and then the sheriff has to come by and break it up...that's pretty much how most our family gatherings ended."

"Yeah, I never really had the whole birthday party experience either. It was always a hard time of year for my mom, so I learned not to expect much beyond maybe going out to eat with my grandparents. Which, if you knew them, you'd know that's not much of a treat." You always wanted to have a sleepover, but every year your mom would tell you no, it's too close to Christmas. Maybe next time (as if the holiday might be moved to February by then).

You trade commiserating smiles, and then your attention is diverted by Noah racing toward you to show off his new treasure. "Look! Balloon!"

"Look at that! What color is the balloon?" you ask.

"Blue?"

"That's right! It's blue!" It's a bit of a trick question, because 'blue' is the only color name he really knows right now. "You're so smart."

"Noah smart- Dad! Dad, balloon!" he says, tossing the balloon in The Boyfriend's direction as he appears in the kitchen doorway. He's so surprised that he doesn't even catch it, much to Noah's chagrin.

"Did he just say..."

"I think so," The Boyfriend replies, slightly dazed. He looks over at Noah, as if seeking confirmation, but the little boy has already given up on him and moved on to entertaining Amanda. When The Boyfriend and your son first met, you just referred to him by his first name like you always did. But at the time, Noah was going through a phase of labeling everything and everyone he didn't know as 'Pa', so you ended up adopting his shorthand. It's worked out fine up until recently, when the two of you decided to start calling him 'Dad' in front of Noah in hopes that he would catch on. You hadn't made a big deal out of it, because that's the surest way to guarantee a toddler rebellion, but you had begun to wonder if you needed a different approach because he hadn't even seemed to notice the change.

That is, until now. In the grand scheme of things, you suppose it's not really important _what_ Noah calls him. He's his father and he always will be. But now with a new baby on the way, one who will presumably call him Dad, you don't want to give Noah any reason to someday question whether The Boyfriend is less of a father to him than to his little brother or sister. "It sounds good."

"I agree," he says, stepping forward and pulling you into a hug. "Now we just have to figure out the last name thing."

"Don't start," you chide teasingly. That's a loaded subject, maybe even more contentious than the Daniel vs. Julian debate. The Boyfriend wants little Lillian or Julian to have his last name, and you want that too, but then it leaves the issue of whether to change Noah's as well. You don't like the idea of your kids having different last names, but you can't deny that you have an emotional attachment to Noah being a Benson after how long it took to get to that point.

(Of course, you _could_ also change _your_ name...but you're just not ready to go there quite yet. It is, as they say, complicated.)

He chuckles softly, turning his head and kissing your temple. "You look nice."

"I didn't have many options. It was this or the same damn pants I wear every day," you explain. Right now your maternity wardrobe consists only of work stuff and stuff to hang around the house in, so you were fortunate to find a skirt in your closet with a waistband that would stretch over your bump. You had started scouring Instagram for fashion ideas, only to be met with pic after pic of cute skinny 20-somethings and realize that you more closely resemble the women who're pregnant with twins, so you gave up and had another donut and wondered where exactly one would go to purchase a muumuu. "Mmm. Hey."

"Yeah?"

You make sure Nick and Amanda are out of earshot, tucking your face against his neck so no one else can hear you. "Remember what you asked me last night?"

"About...? Yeah."

"I'll do it."

"Really?" He smells so good, a mixture of soap and the shampoo of yours that he swears he never borrows, and it's so tempting to make up a bullshit errand that'll get Nick and Amanda (and Noah) out of the house for a few minutes.

"Really. But sometime soon, before I'm massive."

"Hey you guys, can you c'mere for a second?" Nick calls out. When you reenter the living room, he holds up a small white envelope. "So I know you said no gifts...and I know I already didn't listen to you and sent Noah presents anyway. But I have one more little thing for him, and I wanted to give it to you now before everyone else gets here so they don't feel bad about showing up empty handed. Here...you might wanna help him open it."

"Nick...you've spoiled him enough already," you say as you sit down on the couch and Noah climbs up next to you. "I said no gifts because I don't want him to think he should get a present every time someone comes over."

"Whatever, just this once won't hurt. Trust me- he'll love it."

"Noah, should we find out what's in here?" you ask, and he nods enthusiastically while you unseal the envelope as everyone else looks on.

Inside is a card. A blank white greeting card that you have no idea what to do with...

until a massive amount of glitter comes pouring out right into your lap.

"What the fu-Nick!"

You're so distracted by this sparkly explosion that it takes you a moment to read the message written on the paper- a single line. _Hi Mom! Get it?_

You look down again at the glitter collecting in your lap and then start to cry.

It's pink.

_Hi, Lilly._

_{a whole life so lonely  
then you come and ease the pain}_


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Boyfriend has ideas, Nick has a date, and Olivia has decisions to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Back at it again with another chapter in the saga of olivia and The Boyfriend (and Nick). There's quite a bit that I scrapped from this chapter and intend on reworking, so you can expect another update to this fic in the next week or so.
> 
> **A/N:** most of this is very tame, but *please* be warned that there is a fairly graphic self-harm scene (although it's in a dream, so no one is actually hurt). It- and the whole dream- is in italics, so you'll know it when you see it. There are also "spoilers" for a previous chapter of Those Graces within the dream sequence- but if you've never read TG or haven't read that particular chapter, you won't even know you're being spoiled :P Quotes from _never gonna leave this bed_ by maroon 5, _galileo_ by the indigo girls, and _both sides now_ by joni mitchell.
> 
> Enjoy this chapter. The next one is angsty.
> 
> As always, thank you SO much for reading and/or responding. Love to you all. :)

_{wake you up in the middle of the night to say  
I will never walk away again}_

"Can't sleep?"

You shake your head at The Boyfriend, who must have noticed the way you keep shifting around underneath the covers.

"What's wrong? You feel okay?"

"No, it's not like that," you're quick to assure him, "although my calves keep cramping up, so theoretically if you wanted to rub them, I wouldn't be opposed..."

He moves the pillow behind him and sits up, motioning for you to do the same. "So why aren't you sleeping?"

"Just thinking." You turn so you're facing him with your legs draped over his lap. "I'm having a baby," you say, unable to keep the sleepy smile off your face. "We're gonna have a daughter."

To his credit, he doesn't look at you like you've lost your mind. "Yeah?" he asks, wide-eyed as if this is brand new information.

"We'll have a boy and a girl...I guess maybe that's why it's really sinking in now. Having something to call her other than Little Bean." You may technically be almost to the halfway point of your pregnancy, and it may never have left your mind since you had that first nagging suspicion of 'could I be...?', but it still feels a bit otherworldly, like you must be imagining it all. You wonder if it'll feel that way until you're holding her for the first time, or if months will go by with you still unsure if you're dreaming.

"Still like the name?"

"What, Lillian? Yeah, why- don't you?"

"Course," he says, thumbs massaging around your right ankle, "but Nick kept asking me why her middle name can't be Nicole."

You groan. Like her first name, Lilly's middle name (Julia) had been chosen because you liked the way it sounded, but also because it wasn't the name of anyone you knew. You and The Boyfriend were incredibly fortunate to have so many people in your lives worthy of being a namesake, which is why you decided to spare yourselves from having to make that choice and choose a completely original name. But not everyone agreed with this. "Too bad for Nick- hey, I was gonna ask you, how would you feel about going out there this winter? To California."

"To see him?"

"Well, kinda. He thought he could come out here and stay with Noah, and then we could fly out there and stay at his place. Sort of our last time away with just the two of us before Lilly comes."

He nods, undoubtedly thinking about sand and sunshine and all those other things that don't go along with a New York winter. "If your doctor says you're okay to fly, I'd be up for that. But I...huh."

"What is it?"

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd love having a few days all to ourselves. But it's also the last chance we have to do things with just you, me, and Noah as a family...not that he'll remember it, but I kinda want to have that time with him while we still can. And he loves the beach."

"Okay," you agree in a small voice, looking down at your (rapidly disappearing) lap.

"Liv...shit, I'm sorry, I didn't..." He pauses as if he's just realized he's not sure what he's apologizing for. "Uh. Help?"

"I'm not crying," you insist, arms crossed in front of you.

"I didn't say you were- but...?"

You lift your head to show him there really are no tears on your face. "It's nothing. Just that...every time I start to worry that you'll somehow forget Noah once the baby comes, you go and do something to remind me how stupid I'm being."

"Not stupid. You're being a good mom. He's the most important thing in the world to you and so you're protective of him, I get it. That's why I was so surprised when you first asked how I felt about adopting him."

Surprised was an apt description. You had broached the idea with him just two days after you asked him about moving in together, and for a short but heartbreaking moment you had mistaken his initial shock as rejection. That he felt like this was moving too fast and he didn't want that sort of responsibility. That for once, it wasn't you with the commitment issues.

But then you came to your senses and realized you were being ridiculous- after all, he was the one who had first brought up the idea of you going off the Pill and seeing a fertility specialist, so clearly he planned on sticking around for a while. And by then he was giving you this huge grin and saying _God, yeah. nothing would make me happier._

"I still don't know why it was so unexpected to you, though...you're his dad. I just needed it to be official," you say. Not only was it important to you that it be spelled out on paper for legal purposes, but you also wanted Noah to have what you never did. Something tangible saying that he had a mother and a father, that he was part of a family, even if he won't understand or appreciate it until years from now.

"It wasn't...well, I _hoped_ it would happen, and not just for practical reasons, but I knew it had to come from you. It had to be your decision and...I know you trust me. Promise I do. But like I said, he's your entire world. And it takes a whole shitload of trust to be able to share something that's that important to you. So I would've understood if you weren't to that point yet."

"But I was. And I still am."

"I know. But hey, I was thinking about something. Nothing bad," he adds when he sees your face. "Since we're doing all this paperwork anyway, and especially now that we're gonna have Lilly too...how'd you feel if we added an agreement that, if for whatever reason we split up, I think the kids should live mainly with you. At least, assuming that's what you'd want."

"I...wow. I'm..." You clasp your hands together, trying to come up with something to say to accurately reflect what you're thinking. It's no secret that you shy away from this kind of thing, from any mention of a relationship dissolving, because that looming threat of letting yourself fall and then having to pick up the pieces is why you avoid getting too close in the first place. But you know you can't live your life like that any more, that you need to put your childrens' wellbeing before your own emotional issues.

And then there's another part of you who fears something entirely different. You've had the same nightmare on a weekly basis ever since you first suggested the adoption; one where you fuck everything up and he tells you that you're crazy and he's taking your babies away and there's nothing you can do about it. You've never mentioned the dream to him, but it wouldn't be the first time you've accidentally revealed something while talking in your sleep, and the idea that you might have done it again is humiliating enough to make you want to avoid the whole subject altogether.

"I don't mean it as...I'm not going anywhere," he explains once it's clear you're not finishing your sentence anytime soon. "This is it for me. But I'd rather- I think it's better to talk about this now, not when..."

"Now, while we can both be rational about it," you say in understanding.

"Exactly. So- of course, I'd wanna see them often and I'd still want to be involved when it comes to making decisions for them but...I think kids should be with their mom. And I guess I feel like since you're willing to trust me enough to make me their dad, it's the least I can do. Sort of like I'm meeting you halfway. Ultimately it's up to you, though." He rubs his palms up and down your arms in a reassuring gesture. "It's late and I know this is a lot to digest. But think it over, alright? We have time, we don't have to decide right away."

"I will. I'm...thank you."

"Course," he says, noticing how your head keeps nodding lazily. "Think you can sleep now?"

"Mmhmm," you hum, eyes closing before you even lie down.

_{I'm serving time for mistakes made by another in another lifetime}_

_You lock the bathroom door behind you and lean heavily against the wall, hands over your ears to try and muffle the sounds of suitcases being zipped up in the room next door. It doesn't make sense! You don't understand any of it, why you came home to The Boyfriend telling you that it's time to stop pretending. That he can't go on like this and neither can the kids._

_The kids. Noah and Lilly, they're so grown up, they must be six or seven years old. He won't let you talk to them, and they just walked away even as you pleaded with them to say something. Anything. But he won't talk to you either, you begged him to please, God please tell me what I did wrong, and all he said was "You know. You know."_

_And suddenly the fragments of a glass bottle are scattered around your feet, the overhead light making the shards sparkle like they're beckoning to you. So you pick up the largest piece and finger it delicately, admiring the jagged edge, and then without hesitation you drag it across the length of your bare thigh and wait for the pain to come. Waiting. There's nothing, not even a sting where tiny drops of blood have bubbled up on your skin. You don't understand why, how it's barely a scratch, and so you repeat the motion again. And again. And again until you're all but plunging the sharpest point into your leg like a dagger. Nothing._

_There's screaming, wailing, coming from the other side of the door. Children's voices. You run into the living room and you're horrified to see them both covered in blood, long cuts adorning their arms like ribbons. Was it...?_

_"You did it," the male voice behind you confirms._

_No. No. I didn't mean to, I only meant to hurt myself. not them. never them._

_And then they've vanished, all three of them, and you throw the front door open and take off on a frantic search. comebackcomebackcomeback, you shout, and your voice is so loud in your own ears that you almost miss the soft 'click' of the door at the end of the hall. But you're not in your building any more, you're in the building you used to live in and you know that what's behind that door is something dangerous. It doesn't stop you from chasing after them, though, doesn't stop you from bursting through it and then there they are, there's your babies right at the bottom of the staircase. You've gotta get to them, you can't let anyone take them away, but then..._

_"WAIT!" you cry out as The Boyfriend appears and starts to lead them away, out of your view. You take a step, only to find the stairs have disappeared from underneath your feet as you pitch forward head-first._

_I don't want to die._

"Liv. Olivia," comes a steady, familiar voice from nearby. "I'm turning on the lamp, okay? It's alright. You're just dreaming. Gotta wake up."

As he speaks, you can tell through your closed eyes that the room is gradually getting lighter. You hold up your hand to stop him before it can get too bright and to signal that you're awake. "That's good..."

Installing a dimmer switch on your bedside lamp had been a game changer, giving him a way to wake you up when he noticed you were getting agitated without making things worse by startling you. "Okay. I'm right here if you need me."

He's here. Still with you. He didn't take them away. As you continue regaining consciousness, you remember what you had talked about hours earlier. He said he's not going anywhere. _'I think kids should be with their mom.'_

You open your eyes and look downward, palms flat against the curve of your stomach to reassure yourself that Lilly's still secure in her cocoon. You didn't hurt her. "Noah? Noah's alright?"

"He is," The Boyfriend promises, careful not to touch you until you make the first move. Instead he reaches over for the baby monitor, turning the screen toward you so that you can see the image of your son sleeping peacefully in his new race car-shaped toddler bed. "Still asleep. Do you want to go in and check on him?"

"No, I don't want to wake him up." You reach out and touch the monitor with two fingertips, feeling your heart rate rapidly returning to normal with every breath you take in unison with the little boy on the screen.

"Wanna talk about it?"

You shake your head, settling down in the crook of The Boyfriend's arm and holding onto him tightly. "Don't need to. You're here."

"I am. And so is Lilly, and so is Noah. All of us together."

_All of us together_. "Mmm. Hey. About what you said before."

"About planning for who would take the kids?"

"Yeah." _He's not going anywhere_. "I don't want to...I mean. I think we should share time. Fifty-fifty. That's what I'd want for them. We can do that, right?"

"Yeah, baby. We can."

"Good."

_He's still here. You'll never have to chase after them._

_{but now old friends are acting strange  
they shake their heads, they say I've changed}_

After dropping Noah off at preschool for the morning, you make a detour on your way to your therapist's office and stop by the precinct to pick up some paperwork. Carisi looks up when he sees you stepping off the elevator and hurries toward you with a worried frown on his face. "Uh. I didn't want to tell you on the phone, but..."

"Didn't want to tell me...what? Does this have anything to do with the fact that Tucker is sitting right outside my door?" You try to stay calm, try not to instantly start wondering what Amanda did now. She's stayed out of trouble for months and you're giving her the benefit of the doubt just like you promised Nick you would. But if Tucker's sniffing around...

"Uh, kinda. It's- I don't know why he's here. But I mighta let it slip about the, um, the B-A-B-Y."

You pull your blazer tighter around your midsection, which does nothing to hide your now unmistakable bump. "The B-A...why? Why did you tell him? And why are we spelling it?"

"I dunno! I mean, I didn't _intend_ to tell him. But he showed up here and asked me where you were, and I said you were out for the morning because you had an appointment. With your OB." He shakes his head. "I wasn't thinking about- it's just, as soon as I said it, I realized he might think it was. You know," he says, voice dropping, "with your shrink. And that's none of his damn business."

"Carisi..."

"I'm sorry, sarge, really."

"It's okay," you assure him, patting him on the shoulder. You can't be mad, not when he was trying to protect you, and it's not like Tucker wouldn't have noticed the second he looked at you anyway. "Let's just hope he hasn't told the whole department, huh?"

When you start to walk away, Carisi speaks up again. "Hey Sarge? Your boyfriend called. He mentioned you'd been having leg cramps, so I left a banana on your desk. Potassium's good for ya. And don't forget to drink your water."

"Got it," you say, hoping that they hadn't been discussing any of your more 'personal' pregnancy symptoms. (Those were really more of Nick's specialty, anyway). "Lieutenant Tucker. What brings you here today?"

He looks down at your stomach, but you're thankful when his gaze doesn't linger for very long before his eyes are trained back on your face. "I hear congratulations are in order."

"Maybe," you say in a noncommittal voice, setting your purse down on your desk and reaching for a manila envelope.

"I didn't know you were pregnant."

"I didn't know it was an IA matter," you counter.

"I didn't say it was. Just a...surprise. I didn't realize you were still with-"

"Wait. Is this your backdoor way of asking who my baby's father is? Please tell me you're not-" His face turns red and he starts muttering something. "Because that's _really_ not any of your concern. But yes, we're still together."

"I didn't mean for it to sound like-"

"Like you think I get around? Gee, thanks."

He nods toward your hands. "All I meant is, you're not married."

"No. I'm not. But I don't think that's what you came here to talk about."

"It's not. Can I?" he asks, pulling out a chair, and you mumble your permission around a mouthful of banana. "Who else knows about this?"

"Are you feeling left out of the office gossip? Relax. I've only told my detectives- although I think everyone else around here has figured it out for themselves. It's been kinda hard to hide these past couple of weeks."

"But your chief doesn't know."

"It's not for lack of trying, I keep making appointments and one of us always has to cancel. I didn't really want to tell him over the phone or email but it might be the only way to get in touch with him before I'm in labor," you say, peeling the remainder of your banana and popping it in your mouth. "So please don't ruin the surprise for me."

He shakes his head. "I won't, but you should be on desk duty, it's not safe-"

"Trust me, I've barely moved from this chair since I found out. Even less than I normally do. I know I'm high risk and I'm not taking any chances."

"Is there something- sorry. I'm sorry, that was out of line."

You set down your banana peel, expression softening. "It's alright. There's nothing wrong- so far, she and I are both fine. It's just that...well. If you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly in my prime childbearing years."

"She? So it's a girl."

"Yeah. Lillian."

"Lillian, huh? I'd have to say I'm partial to that name...it was one of my grandmothers'." The two of you share smiles and he looks down at a framed photo of Noah sitting on your desk. "Looks like a happy kid."

"He is. But he's not gonna know what hit him, is he?"

"Eh, they adjust fast. Mind some unsolicited advice?"

Taking parenting tips from Ed Tucker? What a world you inhabit these days. "Sure."

"Let people help you out with the baby so you can spend time with Noah. She won't know who's giving her a bottle or changing her diaper, but _he'll_ sure notice who's paying attention to him."

"That is...helpful. Thank you."

"You're welcome. But I guess we should get down to business, huh? You're probably wondering why I'm here..."

"What do you know, you and 'ol Tucker chatting like pals," The Boyfriend teases as you relay the story to him later that night.

"Uh, yeah. Something like that. Until I snapped at him...what? I was completely justified. He asked me if I 'planned on coming back to work after the baby's born'."

"...I'm not following. You knew you were going to get that question."

"But why? And that's exactly what I said to him- 'if I was a man, would you be asking me that?' No, he wouldn't," you say, answering yourself before The Boyfriend can weigh in. "If it was you, and you said your girlfriend was having a baby, it would just be assumed that of _course_ you'll keep working."

"Yeah, probably- but that's different."

"How? Other than...not counting time I'd have to take off just to recover physically, once I'm back to normal, how would it be any different for me than for you?" When he doesn't say anything, you point at him with a victorious smirk. "You're sexist."

"I'm sexist? When _I'm_ going to be the one taking care of Lilly during the day once you go back to work?"

"See?" You climb onto the bed and sit with your legs tucked underneath you, jabbing him in the arm with the glee of someone who has just had her point so eloquently made for her. "You say that like it's unnatural somehow, like you're doing what I'm _supposed_ to do. Should I give you a medal?"

He grabs your wrist playfully, lips brushing across your knuckles. "No, but you could stop being ridiculous and tell me what you said to him. After you finished giving him the sexism lecture, of course."

"Asshole," you say, carefully straddling his lap and then reaching out to rest your hands on his shoulders. "I told him what you and I already talked about. That I'm going to take off for as long as I can, even if some of that has to be unpaid," and for that, you have to hand it to The Boyfriend. He may be a chauvinist pig- but he's also the one who keeps assuring you that you'll make it work if you're not ready to go back once your paid leave runs out, that your time with the baby is more important than your paycheck even though you actually out-earn him at this point. "But I told him I still plan on coming back to be CO, as long as they don't find someone to permanently replace me while I'm gone."

"What'd he say?"

"That's the thing. They want a lieutenant back in charge...and he thinks it should be me."

"Since when does Tucker have anything to do with handing out promotions?" he asks.

"He doesn't. But you know how he is. Likes to stick his head into everything- and now I find out he's already been telling people I'm gonna take the exam."

"And _you_ can tell him to go fuck himself."

You frown, leaning in until your foreheads are touching. "A second ago you were the one shaking your head at me when I said I snapped at him, babe."

"Because I thought it was a reasonable question. But he has no right to dump all that on you, not now...wait. Did you tell him yes?"

"I told him I can't make a decision like that right now. But I don't think that was the answer he wanted- and maybe he has a point, that there's no reason I couldn't start studying now. The test isn't until March anyway."

"And you're going to take it then. When you're eight months pregnant...Liv, you're not even going to fit in those desks by March," he says, chuckling while you try very hard not to crack up while thinking of the same scenario. "I'm sorry, but you know as well as I do- those things are tiny! Not to mention, do you really want to do all the prep for something like that right now? It's a lot to study."

"I feel like I _should_ do it, though. I did it before, so why couldn't I do it now?"

"Of course you could. I don't doubt that for a second. But before, you also weren't planning for a baby, you didn't have a toddler at home, you weren't growing a whole new person...and those are all valid reasons to not take on an extra project when you _don't have to_. You don't even- is this whole lieutenant thing actually something you _want_? Not something you feel like you should do, or you have to do. Something you want for yourself."

The answer is no, not really. Despite your outward confidence, you know that this exam would be much tougher than the last, and that a big part of the reason you did so well on it before was that you weren't sleeping and thus had hours each night to do nothing but study. (Whereas tonight you almost nodded off at the dinner table in mid-chew). Back then it was about having something to prove to yourself, to everyone else, even if all it earned you was a 'promotion' you never wanted. But now your motivation was different. "The pay bump would be nice."

"Not what I was asking. You already hate the managerial stuff, so why would you want to take on more of that?"

"Hon, if I don't- when I come back, there'll be someone new in charge of SVU."

"There's no guarantee they wouldn't transfer you if you made lieutenant," he points out.

"No, but they're not gonna...if I don't do it, whoever they choose to be CO while I'm gone, that'll be a permanent assignment."

"And maybe that's a good thing. You come back as number two and that takes some of the burden off your shoulders."

"Not if...God knows who the hell they'll find. What if they put some total incompetent in charge?" You're starting to get uncomfortable in your current position, so you slide off of The Boyfriend's lap, arranging your favorite pillow so it gives you some back support as you lie down.

"What if they don't?" he counters, laying his head on the pillow next to yours and resting his hand on your stomach. "This way, you have a chance to- hopefully- have some say in who they choose, and-"

"Seriously? Are you familiar with the NYPD?"

"Yes, I'm serious. Tell your pal Tucker you wanna weigh in on whoever they're considering, and I bet he'll make it happen just to prove to you that he can. Then you can relax while you're gone, cause you know everything's under control, and when you get back you'll be able to teach them everything you know. Mold them in your own image. Even if you're number two- you've been there a long time. They'll listen."

"It feels like this is your subtle way of telling me I should retire."

"Liv. Hey." He reaches out, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb. "You know that's not true. I want you to stay there for as long as you feel like that's where you want to be. But I also know your heart's been in it less and less for the last few years...and that's okay. You're at that point, you've got your twenty, and you're not ready to go but maybe it's time to start thinking about your exit strategy. So when you are ready, it's on your terms and you feel comfortable that the unit's in good hands." He kisses your forehead, lingering there for a moment before his lips drop to the corner of your mouth. "There's so much more to life than pushing paper for the NYPD. So much out there you could do."

"So you think I should just say no to him."

"Tell him you're busy with...other things," he says, hand splaying across your lower back. "He'll understand."

You laugh as he starts kissing your neck. "Just say 'Sorry, Lieutenant, but my schedule's booked. My boyfriend's insatiable."

"Like I said, he'll understand. He'd be the same way if he were me."

"Uh-huh. We'll see if you've changed your mind once I'm too big to fit in one of those little desks," you say, sitting up again so you can pull off your shirt.

"I'd still want you even if you broke the damn thing," he promises as he reaches for the waistband of your leggings. "And I'm sure he'd agree."

"Okay, can we not talk about Tucker while you've got a hand in my pants?"

"Good idea."

_{something's lost but something's gained in living every day}_

_[liv. liv this is urgent]_

_[you ok nick?]_

_[I might have a date tomorrow. but I might not. pls don't tell amanda]_

_[but you said last time you were here that you weren't dating?]_

_[it was accidental. I went to the animal shelter bc you have to be interviewed before they let you adopt a puppy. and the girl who interviewed me, at the end, she asked if I wanted to go for a picnic in the park tomorrow with her and her dog. I said yes. but I don't think this was part of the screening process! do you think it's a date?]_

_[um I'd say yes.]_

_[damn it!]_

_[well is she someone you'd go out w/ if the situation was different?]_

_[yeah but now how do I back out? and what if she gets pissed and then I don't get my puppy?]_

_[just go and have a good time and if she asks, tell her you're not ready for a relationship but you're new in town and want to make friends]_

_[LOLOLOL right when are men and women ever able to just be friends?]_

_[then what the fuck are we?]_

_[you're not women. you're olivia. and I'm nick. it's different]_

_[then pretend she's me? idk, nick, I've got work to do. you'll figure it out]_

_[k. miss you. tell everyone hi for me]_

_[I'd say I miss you but I haven't stopped finding hay and pink glitter all over the house from noah's party so it's like you never left]_

_[aww a little piece of me is still with you. that makes me so happy.]_

_[goodbye nick]_


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst, Wheel of Fortune, and a cliffhanger ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I promised another update to this fic this week...and here you have it. TG update coming next, I promise.
> 
> **A/N:** warnings for sexual harassment, references to a past assault, (and less seriously- Nick being Nick, and a bit of a cliffhanger ending.) Quotes from _timshel_ , _the cave_ , and _after the storm_ , all by mumford and sons.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who reads! And thank you even MORE to everyone who takes the time to let me know what you think. :)

_{cold is the water  
it freezes your already cold mind}_

"You sure you're not having twins?"

You grit your teeth and force a smile at the older woman on the opposite end of the changing room bench. "Positive."

"My daughter in law, that's what she thought- turns out there was another one hiding behind his brother! And she was...well, what are you, four months? Five months? Yeah, I'd say she was even bigger than you are."

"I've had three ultrasounds already, and all of them only showed one baby," you promise as you try to get a wiggly Noah into his swim trunks, wondering why you feel the need to justify yourself to this lady when your relationship is limited to these weekly chats in the locker room at the Y. According to your doctor, you're right where you should be in terms of weight, and Lilly is actually on the smaller side of average for this stage. According to Melinda, it's because your middle aged stomach muscles aren't quite as tight as those of all the Instagram girls who are half your age and have petite little bumps. According to you, none of this is a stranger's business.

"Baby!" Noah stops moving around when he hears the magic word. You're pretty sure he still hasn't made the connection between it and your growing belly, but he hears it enough to have learned that he gets doted on by the adults in his life every time he says it. "Momma go? Baby?"

"Get your towel and then we'll go."

He picks up his towel as your observer shakes her head. "Isn't he kinda hard to understand? Doesn't seem like he talks a lot. You ever have him tested for autism?"

"He had some language delays, but he's catching up. His speech therapist says he's in the normal range for his age," you say, again wondering why you're having this conversation. "C'mon, Noah, time for the pool."

The lady says something about how you should exercise more as you walk away, holding Noah's hand tightly to keep him from slipping on the wet floor. This is his favorite time of the week, and one of your favorites as well- your Wednesday morning Mommy and Me swim class. Some of the best memories of your early childhood are of the times your mom would take you to the pool on campus during open swim hours. It was one of the few times you can remember her really interacting with you; holding onto your hands as you learned to float and reaching out to catch you when you were brave enough to stand on the edge and jump in. So with that in mind, you and Noah had been regular swimmers ever since you first took custody of him. He's grown to love the water as much as you did at that age, even practicing 'swimming' on the carpet when he's at home, and you hope Lilly will be the same way once she's old enough for the pool.

Of course, swimming necessitates a swimsuit, and therein lies the challenge. At first, you bought this ridiculous suit that covered everything but made you look like you were about to go deep sea diving in some nature documentary. Then you realized that you were actually drawing more attention to yourself that way, so you went shopping a second time and found something that would let you blend in with everyone else even if it left your arms and legs exposed. As it turned out, you might've been making a big deal out of nothing, because it's been a year and a half and only one person has been brave and/or stupid enough to say anything to you.

_("Were you in some sorta accident?"_

_"Um. Yeah."_

_"What kind?"_

_"...a bad one?")_

Then last week you'd had to go swimsuit shopping yet again- this time perusing the maternity section for something that wasn't going to make you look like a brightly patterned beach ball in a few months. You'd managed to find one in a decent color that wasn't too revealing or too frumpy, even if the halter top dipped a little lower than you would've liked, and you'd been so happy with your purchase that you celebrated by devouring an entire plate of nachos all on your own.

But now you're starting to rethink your choice (the swimsuit, not the nachos. You already rethought that one when you were up all night with heartburn). You're trying to forget about what that nosy old lady had said, trying to remind yourself that your imaginary audience is just that- imaginary. Everyone else is minding their own business, unconcerned with your new figure or with the three dark pink marks peeking out from the neckline of your suit. Your doctor had told you it's normal for scars to get darker during pregnancy, especially on your chest and stomach where the skin is stretching, and she promised they'd go back to normal once the baby's born. Nice to know, sure, but not much of a consolation right now.

Your worries start to fade once you're in the pool, too focused on Noah to think much about anything else. In the last few weeks you've been working to teach him how to blow bubbles in the water, a new skill which he thinks is hilarious and wants to practice as often as possible, especially while drinking milk out of his sippy cup.

"Voom, voom! Go!" Noah cheers, holding onto the edge of the pool and kicking his legs wildly.

You crouch down so your head is level with his. "Can you kick _and_ blow bubbles?"

He frowns but gives it his best attempt. He's not doing both simultaneously, more like alternating one after the other and pausing every couple of seconds to cheer for himself. You join in with the praise until he gets tired and then you sit him on the stairs next to you so he can calm down.

"Wheee!" he shouts right into your ear, which is his signal for you to put him on your shoulders for a piggyback ride. You hear him, but you're distracted by two men you see sitting in the hot tub just a few feet away from you. They're talking to each other, and although you can't hear what they're saying, they're both looking right at you in a way that makes you want to duck under the water's surface and disappear.

You pretend not to see them, handing Noah a little toy boat and acting like you're engrossed in watching him play. But you're keeping an eye on them in your peripheral vision, and you silently curse when they get out of the water and go over to their towels- which happen to be placed on the bench right behind you. A woman who had been swimming laps heads into the sauna and now you're the only ones left in the pool area.

Relax, you tell yourself, you're making a big deal out of nothing. You ask Noah what color his boat is and are surprised at the way your voice shakes.

"Hey there," the taller of the two men says. When you don't react, he tries again. "I said hey."

You turn around and glare to let him know he's been heard. "Noah, baby, it's time to go home."

"You're too good to talk to us? What's the problem?"

_«am I not good enough for you anymore, sweetheart?»_

His friend laughs. "Aww, c'mon. You obviously like dick."

_«see, you love it. you can't get enough.»_

You're faintly aware of Noah making a sound like an engine revving as his toy boat cuts through the water, oblivious to anything else going on around him. You've got your hand on his arm and you try to reach over and lift him up, try to tell him again that you have to leave, but you find yourself frozen and mute. Oh god. _Oh god._

A wave of panic starts to flood over you, and by some miracle it turns into the rush of adrenaline that you need to get both of you out of the pool. But your new acquaintances aren't going to give up trying to get your attention. "Wish I was the one who put that in you, goddamn. Bet I could give it to you better than whoever you've been fucking."

_«fuck, you *did* miss this. I told you, didn't I? best you ever had»_

Noah's starting to fuss now that he's realized swim time is over. You lean down to pick up your towels, so intent on getting out of there that you don't even realize what's now directly in their line of sight.

"Jesus, you must like it rough..."

It's too late now, but you still yank at the neckline of your swimsuit as you walk away. Noah's whining is drowning out the sounds of their voices, and you've never been so glad to hear a toddler tantrum before. For once you're not concerned that the other women in the locker room must think you're a terrible parent who can't control her child. Your only focus is on finding the nearest open changing stall and pulling Noah into it with you, locking the door and collapsing on the bench inside as you start to sob.

You cover your eyes with your hand, trying to keep your son from seeing you cry, but it's no use. He stops his own whimpering, climbing up on the bench next to you and patting your cheek. "No, momma, no. No cry. All better."

"I'm sorry," you whisper to him, laughing weakly at his 'all better'. He's so innocent right now, living in a world where everything can be fixed with a kiss and an 'all better' from mom or dad, and you hold onto him tightly as if he could transmit some of that back to you. As if you could keep him in that world forever.

He lets you cling to him without protest, petting your hair and repeating the words you've used to comfort both of you so many times before. "We're okay. We're okay."

_{I know my call despite my faults  
despite my growing fears}_

"It's good to see you today, Olivia."

You nod, taking a seat on the couch in your therapist's office. "Yeah, you say that now...but I'm only here so I can cry for an hour without anyone giving me a hard time."

"Didn't you have another appointment with your doctor yesterday?" she asks.

"Yeah, but...it's not that. I mean, it is, but we're fine. Lilly and I are both healthy. I got to hear her heartbeat again and...the doctor told me it sounds really good," you say, the corners of your mouth turning upward as you do. You'd even insisted on taking a (bad) recording of it with your phone and you must have listened to it on repeat for at least an hour the night before. "I wish I could just focus on that and not...everything else."

"Do you want to tell me a little about what 'everything else' is?"

"Depends. Is your schedule clear for the morning?"

You start by telling her about your experience at the pool; how you're still kicking yourself for how you handled it and how you can't stop running through the 'what ifs' in your head. How you had nightmares of Noah watching while they held you down and you were powerless to stop what was about to happen. Then you move onto the next day and your OB appointment.

"I hadn't slept well, not at all, and it was first thing in the morning so...anyway, I went by myself." The Boyfriend had already scheduled an important meeting for the same time, and you had insisted he didn't need to rearrange everything for a quick ten minute checkup. "There's four doctors in the practice- three women and a man- and I guess things were a little chaotic because my usual doctor had been called away on an emergency. I didn't think anything of it until they told me that Dr. Layne is the only one in the office right now and I say to myself...oh. Shit."

"Is that the male doctor?"

You nod. "And I was blindsided. I think I told the receptionist no, I need to see a woman, and she basically tells me to take it or leave it. Then the nurse came out before I had a chance to figure out what I was going to do."

"Your usual nurse?"

"Stephanie? Yeah. Thank God for that. If she hadn't been there..." As it was, you had barely been able to force yourself out of the bathroom after she had sent you in there to get a urine sample. "The walls aren't that thick. I'm sure everyone at the nurse's station could hear me throwing up...at least this gives me an excuse, right?" you say, rubbing your stomach over the soft material of your sweater. "I should've...I wanted to tell them I was sick and we'd have to reschedule. I wanted to so badly."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I was afraid of...I didn't want to draw any more attention to myself. I didn't want anyone to know that I was about to climb the fucking bathroom walls in a panic if I thought I could sneak out that way. It was bad enough that...I'd already kept everyone waiting and I was so embarrassed about that."

She nods sympathetically. "So you ended up going through with it."

"Yeah. I...I'd beat myself up too much if I didn't. I had to do it for Lilly, to make sure she was alright. And the actual appointment was...he was great, it was quick, Stephanie told me I could keep my own clothes on since all he was doing was using the Doppler to find the heartbeat..."

"Do you think she could tell you were uncomfortable?"

You press your lips together and close your eyes, turning your head toward the wall. "I'm pretty sure she did, yeah."

"It seems like you're awfully upset about that."

"I am!" you say, her observation having fueled the flickering anger that had been burning in your gut for days now. "I'm upset that I went home and stood in the shower for 45 minutes because I couldn't stand the feeling of some strange guy having touched me. That is _not_ normal! How the fuck am I supposed to get through the actual birth if I can't even do this?"

"But you _did_ do it," she reminds you. "It was unpleasant, but you found a way to cope long enough to make it through. Being anxious doesn't mean you failed. I know you won't believe that, but it's the truth."

"You should probably hold off on deciding whether or not I failed until I finish this story," you warn.

You tell her about what happened later that evening, how you were at the grocery store with Noah and struggling to reach an item situated far back on the top shelf. "I swear this baby is making me shorter- anyway, this guy comes over to us. I had passed him in the aisles a couple times, he smiled at me, I ignored him...so he says 'oh here, let me get that' and grabs it off the shelf for me. I thank him and he says 'Don't thank me, I'm honored to help. Anything for a beautiful woman. I'm sure your baby will be just as beautiful.' And then he reaches toward my stomach and I lost it. Shoved him as hard as I could...what?"

"I'm sorry," Dr. Christiansen says. "It's obviously upsetting to you and I'm not making light of that- but frankly, I think plenty of women would say you were completely justified."

"I shouldn't have, though. Not in front of Noah. He was right there and his eyes got all big, like he _knew_ it was wrong. It's one thing if I was actually in danger- I don't want him thinking that it's okay to lash out like that. I need to set a better example. I already..." Your shoulders slump, shaking your head at the memory. "I can't get it out of my mind, thinking about how I cried in front of him at the pool. I never let myself break down like that while he's around. Especially now that he's more aware of...goddamit. See? I told you when I walked in that I'd cry."

She gives you some space, silent for several moments while you stare down at your feet. You feel like Noah, believing that if I can't see her, she can't see me and thus can't see your tears. "What is it that you're thinking about?"

"How I was that kid who grew up having to console their mom even when I didn't understand what was going on. How I was that kid who grew up being told what a scary place the world is and how you can't ever let your guard down because everyone's out to hurt you if you give them the chance. I don't want that life for them."

"For Noah and Lilly." You nod. "Do you think that's what's happening now? Does Noah seem upset by all this?"

You think back to last night after you got home from the store, how he went about his regular pursuits like building Lego towers and making a beard out of bubble bath while he was in the tub. "I guess not. But babies pick up stress hormones in the womb, it goes into their bloodstream and it's unhealthy. It can alter their brain chemistry."

"Well, you already told me how anxious you were at the doctor's office- but Lilly checked out alright, yeah? Heartbeat was normal, she's growing like she's supposed to?"

"Yeah."

"Olivia...it sounds to me like you're doing everything right. Actually, I _know_ you are. I've seen all the work you've done with Noah to make sure he feels safe and secure, and I think it's paying off." You tilt your head slightly, considering this. "Your mother either didn't realize the effect she was having on you, or she didn't know what to do about it. But you- you're conscious of what's going on and when something's not right, you _do_ something about it. That's all anyone can expect from you."

"I expect more from me. I shouldn't be so afraid of such stupid, minor things and...Jesus. I hate feeling so out of control."

"You've been through times like this before, though, where you felt like you weren't in control of your emotions or how you responded to them."

"Yeah, no shit- I have. And here I am again. So...what'm I even doing?" you ask no one in particular, attempting to fold your arms across your chest in defiance and getting irritated when you realize that doesn't work as well any more.

"Well, what I was going to say is- you've been here before. Or in places like it. And every time, you've worked at it and you've found a way to adapt and things have gotten better. I've got faith that you can do it this time too."

"I...well. I want to. Because I get really fucking tired of...I'm back to that feeling of where I walk down the street and I'm convinced I'm being watched."

"Which is something you've worked through before. And just because it's popped up again, doesn't mean you're a failure or that you won't be able to get past it this time." You shrug, picking at your nail polish. "Do you have any idea what triggered it now?"

"Hmm...I feel like I can defend myself, somewhat. Or at least I used to. But now...I've got my daughter with me 24/7, so it makes that harder. I'm not just afraid of people hurting _me_ anymore. And then when I have Noah with me too, it all multiplies because I'm even more vulnerable right when I have an extra person to protect."

"And that's what frightened you so much about the incident at the pool."

"Yeah. Well...not just that. It scared me, the way I reacted. How I just froze. I can't do that."

She marks something down on her notepad. "What do you think you should have done instead?"

"Get out of there."

"But isn't that what you did? You got yourself and Noah away from them without escalating the situation- so even if you froze, you must've recovered quickly. To me, it sounds like you did exactly what you should've done."

"But not what I wanted to do," you say, thinking a bit sadly about how a younger you wouldn't have hesitated to put them in their place.

She seems to pick up on your thoughts. "And you're right- being pregnant does make you more vulnerable, in a way. I think a lot of women have that feeling. But I can see how it would bother you more than most, given your past and given that you've always been in a job where you're in the protector role."

"It definitely makes me feel...less intimidating. Especially when I don't have the badge and the gun to hide behind. Maybe I should just stick my badge right there," you say jokingly, pointing to the fullest part of your stomach, "and it would scare off all the unwanted attention." Your smile vanishes as an old memory pops into your head. "I only ever saw one picture of my mom that was taken while she was pregnant with me...it was at some sort of award ceremony at the university and anyway, she had a ring on her left hand. I asked her about it and she said it was a fake, that she wore it so she wouldn't get hassled about being single and pregnant. Everyone close to her knew there was no husband, of course, but it kept strangers away." You remember the forced smile on her face, so in contrast to the way her eyes were looking nervously at something off-camera. "I can't imagine how she must've felt, you know? Every day I feel like I understand more of just how much I _can't_ understand what she went through."

"Does it make you miss her more?"

"I miss not having a mother to talk about all of this shit with. It feels like that's who you're supposed to come to with everything, that's who's supposed to help you through it...but then again, I don't know if she could've been that person for me even if she was alive. If we'd have the kind of relationship where we could talk about these things."

"Understandable," she says. "How about your boyfriend? Have you told him about what's been going on?"

You think about the last couple of days, about how she's always warning you against using sex as a way to avoid your feelings and how The Boyfriend has probably realized that it's not just pregnancy hormones that have you so desperate to be fucked. "Ha. Funny you should ask..."

_{you are not alone in this_  
as brothers we will stand  
and we'll hold your hand} 

_[liv help. I think I'm being taken advantage of]_

_[your date? how did that go?]_

_[ok. until we started talking about music. she likes the shins!]_

_[so do you...]_

_[yeah but I would never TELL anyone that. and her favorite death cab for cutie album is Plans. she might as well be you. I don't think this is going to work out.]_

_[because she likes the same music you're ashamed of liking?]_

_[dating civilians is weird, liv. how do people do it?]_

_[you're asking me? seriously?]_

_[heh. never mind. I just dunno. we had a nice time and everything, but...she doesn't know me.]_

_[but isn't that what you wanted by moving? a fresh start?]_

_[I thought I did. and I like it here, but the people aren't the same. Being back in NYC reminded me how much I miss being around people who just *get* me. like you- and even amanda, even when it's complicated, we had this understanding. we have history.]_

_[I think you need to give it time, nick.]_

_[but how long? she called me today to set up an appointment to come meet the puppies at the shelter. and then she asked me to dinner. am I being exploited? how long does this go on for? am I going to have to sleep with her to get my puppy? I mean, I'll do it. but I'm just saying.]_

_[you don't have to sleep with her. remember what I said? act like you would with me. what would you say if I asked you if you wanted to have sex?]_

_[are you pregnant? how drunk are we?]_

_[NICK]_

_[I would say maybe we should just cuddle instead. and maybe I'd touch your boobs and pretend like it was an accident. but that's it]_

_[I'm ending this conversation. you're on your own]_

_[that's ok. I have to get going. I have somewhere to be.]_

_[sounds good]_

_[you're not going to ask me where I'm headed?]_

_[No]_

_[Liv...it's somewhere very exciting]_

_[I bet]_

_[aren't you curious?]_

_[I am not]_

_[fine. because I wasn't going to tell you anyway]_

_[it's your call, nick]_

_[I'll text you later tonight and tell you]_

"Tiooooooo!" Noah yells, running into the living room when he hears Nick's voice coming from your phone.

"Look who wants to talk to you!" As you hold it up so he can see Nick's face on the screen, he's so excited that he starts jumping around in some sort of half-wave, half-dance. "Tell Tio what Dad got you today."

"Hat!"

"No, buddy, that's what Tio got you. You like your hat, huh?" As part of the farm-themed birthday party that Nick had arranged for Noah, he brought the birthday boy a straw cowboy hat that had been handmade by his neighbor. He brought you a hat too, one with a big floppy brim that you threaten to take to work and hide under whenever you're in the mood to ignore everyone.

Noah races out of the room and emerges a second later to model his hat for Nick. "Look at that cowboy!"

"That cowboy got a potty chair today," you tell Nick, looking meaningfully at Noah. "Because real cowboys don't wear diapers."

Noah is uninterested, too busy singing an off-key rendition of some song he learned at preschool. "He's pretty good, Liv. Think he's ready to join his first band?"

"No bands until he's potty trained," you say, looking at the screen in search of some sympathy. "I don't know what I'm gonna do if I have two in diapers."

"He'll figure it out. Right, sobrino?"

You sit Noah on your lap so he can say goodnight and blow kisses to his uncle, and then it's off to bed with a promise that you'll text Nick to ask about his mystery trip once Noah's down for the night.

_[Liv today I took the first step toward making one of my dreams come true]_

_[did you have sex with her?]_

_[NO. another dream. not puppy related. are you ready for this?]_

_[probably not]_

_[I auditioned for wheel of fortune!]_

_[wow. okay. I didn't know that was your dream?]_

_[my therapist told me that I should try new things, stuff that I'd never have the chance to do in new york. and I always loved that show as a kid. reminds me of watching with my abuela and how she learned English that way]_

_[that's sweet, nick. so how did the audition go?]_

_[well I had sent in a video earlier. really played up the disabled former cop thing- you gotta pull on those heartstrings, you know? so it must have worked, bc they invited me to come in and play a mock game with a few other people. and I made the cut to come back to a second round of auditions!]_

_[congratulations!]_

_[the producer woman said the camera loves me. I think it helped that I wore my old patrol uniform. women can't resist it.]_

_[be careful or you'll end up having to say yes to another date with someone else]_

_[one of the other contestants asked if she could hire me for her bachelorette party]_

_[please tell me you said no]_

_[I told her I don't strip, but I can salsa dance. she said that's ok as long as I wear the uniform]_

_[what]_

_[do you think I can learn salsa in three days?]_

_[No]_

_[I better get going then. time is of the essence]_

_{the sun it rises slowly as you walk  
away from all the fears and all the faults you left behind}_

"Hey. Can I talk to you about something?"

The Boyfriend doesn't seem surprised by your question- as you predicted, he must've known it was coming eventually. "Yeah, course."

"This isn't what's been bothering me...well, not really," you warn, lest he be expecting too much.

"Aha. So you admit it."

"Pretty obvious, huh?" When he shrugs, you move closer to him on the couch. "It's gonna be okay, I promise. Just needed to sort some stuff out in my head."

He asks if you've talked to your therapist about it, and he seems to relax a little when you assure him you have. "That's good. As long as you can let it out someplace...that's all I want."

"This is going to sound like it's coming out of nowhere, but- would it bug you if I switched my ring over to my left ring finger? Just for a while, only when I'm out in public..."

"Does it not fit on your right hand anymore?" he asks, looking down at your fingers, and you kick yourself for not having come up with that excuse on your own.

"It doesn't." You make a big deal of twisting the band back and forth, acting like you have to struggle to force it off your finger. "See? I'm afraid that one day it'll get stuck and I'd have to get it cut off."

"Or you want to keep the 'gentlemen' of New York from thinking you're a lonely single mother looking for love," he says knowingly. "Is someone giving you a hard time? Because I swear to God, I will fucking-"

"I'm _fine_. I promise." The truth is, you know it's not going to deter the more ardent perverts and sleazebags out there. But it might keep some of the low-level creeps away, and more importantly than that, you hope it'll serve as the psychic shield that your Fearlessness necklace was to you for so many years. It was your mother's ring, after all. She survived, and you will too- but you'll also do so much more than just survive. You owe that much to her, and to yourself.

And maybe someday you'll pass it down to Lilly, and you'll have something else to wear in its place.

The Boyfriend must be able to read your thoughts, because he starts lightly rubbing your bare left ring finger. "You know...if you want an engagement ring. You know you could have the real thing, right?"

_{and love will not break your heart  
but dismiss your fears}_


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marriage, tattoos, and TMI from the chief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow- two updates from me in one week AND this little fic gaining a 10th chapter? What a monumental occasion! :D
> 
> Seriously, I don't know how this got to 10 chapters considering that I don't do domestic/family/kidfic. This is surprisingly fun to write, though, especially when TG starts eating what's left of my soul. Oh, the pain.
> 
> **A/N:** nothing dark. The only warnings are for consensual sex and Chief Dodds making an ass of himself! Quotes from _winter winds_ , _after the storm_ , _sigh no more_ , and _roll away your stone_ , all by mumford and sons.
> 
> Coming soon: a not so perfect Thanksgiving and Nick's dreams all coming true. But first...

_{and my head told my heart 'let love grow'  
but my heart told my head 'this time no'}_

_"You know...if you want an engagement ring. You know you could have the real thing, right?"_

"Yeah. I know."

You pull your hand out of his grasp, getting off the couch and reaching down to pick up some pieces of glitter that are still(!) stuck to your carpet in order to avoid making eye contact.

"What the hell are you doing?" The Boyfriend asks with a sigh. "That's not good for your back."

"I'm not an invalid. Let me bend over while I still can," you say, even as you notice that it strains your knees a little more than usual when you go to stand upright again.

"You don't have to look at me, but just come back and sit. Please?"

You do exactly as told, including the part about not looking at him. "We've talked about this before."

"Yeah, but you weren't pregnant then."

"And what, we're having a baby so we automatically need to get married? Wait...did you knock me up just so I'd marry you?" You're not sure if the idea is maddening or funny, but either way it makes you laugh, and when you turn toward him it's reassuring to see that he's smiling too.

He shrugs, and you can almost see the tension melting off of his shoulders. "You caught me."

"Well, I guess you're out of luck. For one, I refuse to be pregnant in my wedding photos."

"If we went down to city hall tomorrow, we could probably hide it well enough by having you wear a big coat."

"Uh-huh," you say with a smirk before your voice gets softer, more serious. "I know that...to you, it seems like a given. We have kids together, so we should get married. It's okay," you add before he can interrupt. "I mean, I can understand why you feel that way. And I get that it'd maybe simplify things, as far as adopting Noah goes. But..."

"But you don't see it the same as I do."

"I see how it would save paperwork. But I don't think that's a good enough reason to marry someone."

He looks away from you, palms smoothing over his denim-clad thighs like he's unsure whether or not he should stand up and walk out. You should've known he'd bring up the marriage issue when you mentioned the ring, even though you thought it had already been settled when you turned down his last quasi-proposal. (Does asking 'should we get married?' even count as a proposal, anyway? Or do you have to have a ring involved?). "I think having two kids together is a good reason, like you said. Not because it's an obligation...but because if I'm committed enough to someone to start a family with them, then I guess I feel like I'm committed enough to marry them too."

"And now we're back to questioning whether I'm really committed," you say, an edge of bitterness creeping into your words even as you struggle to hide it.

"No. No, I'm not." He moves over to sit closer to you, hand resting lightly on your arm. "Liv. I _know_ you are. Because you- we," he corrects, reaching toward your stomach, "wouldn't be here if you weren't. But...I dunno, is it really so crazy that I want you to be my wife?"

"Maybe a little? Given everything that's happened...I guess it's kinda surprising that you're ready for that so soon after...anyway. I understand that it's something you want for the kids, to have their parents be married, so-"

"It's still something I'd want, even if we didn't have the kids. I'd still want it for me. For us."

You rub your bump silently as if you're hoping Lilly's about to give you some sort of sign. It's so much easier to think that The Boyfriend's desire to become The Husband is for the kids' benefit, because you can rationalize turning him down by telling yourself that you know you can be a good mother without being a wife as well. But it's more than that to him- for reasons that you don't completely understand, he wants to be your husband. And when you think about it that way, it seems incredibly heartless to tell him no. "I wish I could say yes."

"Then what's stopping you?"

"Everything's changing so fast. When I look at the last couple of years, or even the last few months...a year ago, we weren't a sure thing. I didn't know if I'd ever be able to adopt Noah. And now the two of you are here for good, and we've got another baby coming- and as amazing as it all is, part of me is so overwhelmed. I spent so many years with everything being fairly stable and now it's like I'm on fast forward. I just...I can't add any more changes to my life right now. I know it hurts you, and that's why I wish I could say yes. But I can't."

"And then what happens after Lilly's born? Or a year from now, or five years from now? Do you really think you'll be any more ready then?"

"I don't know," you admit. "Maybe I...I can't promise you I ever will be. I don't want you waiting and hoping for something that..."

"I know you can't. And I won't lie and say it doesn't bother me, or even that I really understand your reasons." He looks down, stroking your bare ring finger. "But I love you more than I love the idea of having a wife, so even if we never get married...I'm not going to give up hope," he adds, smiling out of one corner of his mouth. "But whatever happens, as long as I have you, I can live with that."

There's something about the way he says it that makes you uneasy. "Be honest with me. Do you worry about me leaving?" He starts to shake his head before you add "I'm not asking so I can accuse you of mistrusting me. But it's...given our history, I think it's a legitimate question."

"Well...yeah, sometimes I guess I do. But I know you feel the same about me," he's quick to point out.

"Sometimes I do," you agree. "And you know that." You move over, intending to climb into his lap until you have a vision of toppling backwards off the couch and onto the floor. You settle for sitting perpendicular to him, thighs resting on top of his, so you can reach up and pull his head down for a kiss without your belly getting in the way. "I love you. I'm not going anywhere this time."

"I believe you."

You put your arm around his shoulders as you kiss him again. "Hey baby?"

"Yeah?"

"Someday, if you really do decide to propose- you should probably ask Nick's permission first. He would be expecting that, and you don't want to start off our married life with him as an enemy."

The Boyfriend scoffs. "And if he says no?"

"Then that's too bad, because we already eloped without telling him."

_{get over your hill and see what you find there  
with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair}_

You relocate to the bedroom when things start heating up, both because couch sex is becoming too impractical these days and because Noah is no longer safely corralled in his crib. You've been lucky so far in that he seems to think there's some sort of force field around his bed keeping him trapped, or else it just hasn't occurred to him that he could easily escape, but you know your luck will run out eventually and you'd rather not be bent over the back of the sofa when it does.

He's sleeping soundly, so you go ahead and lock the bedroom door behind you. "All clear."

"Good. C'mere."

It's much easier to get close like this, where you can straddle his lap without worrying about falling over and he can lean back to accommodate your belly. You pick up where you left off, kissing languidly while your hands run over his chest and stomach, sucking his bottom lip in between both of yours and giving it a little tug.

"Take this off," you say, fingering the collar of his shirt. He does as told and you reciprocate, pulling off the old t-shirt of his that you're wearing before attempting to take off your bra. It used to be one of the first things you'd do when you got home, ditching the bra for the night, but now you can't even sleep comfortably without one. Nobody warned you about this!

He chuckles as he watches your struggle. "Problem?"

"Do you wanna see them or not?" you retort, and that's enough encouragement to get him to help you out. "Now this is much better, right? The magic of teamwork."

You lean forward and knead the muscles in his shoulders, kissing his neck before sliding downward. Your breasts graze against his skin as you move and the friction on your sensitive nipples leaves them painfully hard. Shifting so that you're supporting your body weight on your hands and knees, you're able to tilt your head down and kiss him, tongues brushing together while the tips of your nipples ghost over his chest.

"Enough teasing," he decides, carefully rolling you onto your back and then shoving a pillow under your ass so you're not lying flat. He reaches for the waistband of your pants and pulls them down, smirking appreciatively when he sees that you don't have anything on underneath. Once he gets your leggings all the way off, he settles between your legs and kisses his way from the back of your knee to the top of your thigh. He does the same with the other leg, cautious that his mouth doesn't make contact with your center, then places a reverent kiss right below the curve of your belly while his finger traces up and down your slit.

"Ohhh fuck," you sigh, arching upwards off of the pillow- and as good as this feels, you know you'll be paying for it later. "Can you...I've gotta sit up before I throw my back out."

He nods and moves over right away, giving you the perfect opportunity to surprise him by straddling his legs and pushing him down to the mattress. "What the hell, you little-"

"I'm not _completely_ immobile yet," you say, grinning proudly. You are a bit lightheaded from the effort, though, so you rest your palms on his chest to steady yourself. "Ahh. God..."

"You okay?"

"Oh yeah." You're positioned at an angle where your clit rubs against the underside of his erection every time you move, and as you rock against him a few more times you realize you could easily come from this alone. But you take pity on him and decide not to prolong the torture, lifting yourself up and then sinking down onto his dick, his hands grasping onto your hips as you start to move.

You smile at him, a little secret smile, and he smiles back. It's one of those tiny intimate moments where you're both looking into each other's eyes and it's so intense, but this time you're not tempted to turn away. Not like the past few nights when all you wanted was for him to take you from behind; fuck you hard and fast so that you could stop thinking and get some sleep. You know he wasn't opposed to it (you have ground rules for that sort of thing, where he has the final say and he won't hesitate to turn you down, pregnant or no). But you can't deny that you've been lost in your own head ever since the incident at the pool, and that's something that does get to him even though he knows not to push, knows that you have to sort through it in your own time and you'll open up when you're ready. The wait can be tough. You know that from personal experience, seeing as how he's not exactly transparent himself. But despite it all, somehow you keep finding your way back to each other, and the path becomes easier to navigate with every trip. You'd like to think it always will.

"I love you," you whisper, and his smile gets wider. He pushes himself up onto his elbows in order to capture one of your nipples with his mouth, caressing it with his tongue, and you keep rolling your hips until both of you are going over the edge together.

_{love will not betray you,_  
dismay, or enslave you  
it will set you free} 

"So are we really okay about...well. The whole marriage thing?" you ask later on, once you're settled into a nest of pillows (the one underneath your head bearing an uncanny resemblance to The Boyfriend's shoulder).

"Yeah, we are. Even if I might pretend your ring really is an engagement ring," he jokes. "Are you sure...there's nothing going on? Nobody tried anything?"

You assure him that you're alright. You've decided it's best not to tell him about your run-ins at the pool or the grocery store- there's really nothing he can do but get angry about it. "But there is one thing...from now on, do you think you could come to all my appointments with me?"

"Of course, yeah- why? Did something happen? You're...you're both okay, aren't you?"

"No, no, we're fine. It's nothing like that." You look down at your stomach, trying to hide your embarrassment. _It's for Lilly's sake_ , you tell yourself, _just be honest with him_. "But last time Dr. Armstrong got called away on an emergency, so I ended up having to see one of the male doctors and...I mean, it went alright, but it just. I wasn't expecting it."

He kisses the top of your forehead and sighs. "You could've called, Liv, and I would've been right there...see, I knew I shouldn't have let you talk me out of coming."

"I was okay by myself," you hurry to say, lest he get the wrong idea. Because you were, you fought back the urge to panic until you could safely break down in private, and that's all you can hope for some days, "but I...I guess I just feel better when you're around."

"I'll be there," he promises, hand resting on your bump in reassurance. _He'll be there._

"Hey, ah...here's a question. Completely different topic. What would you think if I got a tattoo?"

"You hate tattoos," he reminds you. Which is true. You tolerate his because, well, it's part of him, but you wouldn't be sad at all if the tattoo removal fairy paid him a surprise visit one day.

"I do, yeah. But back when I was in college, I used to think I'd get one after I got married. Just something small that was meaningful to my husband and me, and I'd get it right next to my hipbone or somewhere like that so no one but the two of us would know it was there."

"And so...you want one now?" He looks surprised, maybe a little confused, but not at all displeased.

"Well, not right this second, obviously. But once Lilly's born and I'm back to my regular weight- maybe? Only if you liked the idea, of course."

"Oh, I do," he murmurs into your ear. "Have you thought about what it'd look like?"

"Not really. But I did think about getting it done right here," you say, pointing to the spot where your right hip meets your thigh, to a pink imprint of the jagged teeth of a key. It's not your largest scar, not even the one you're most ashamed of, but it's a good location for a tattoo and there's something very satisfying about the idea of watching it disappear under a layer of ink. "I saw a guy on TV who specializes in covering up burns, so if it's possible...what do you think?"

"You're really serious about this."

"Well...yeah? I mean, maybe it's a weird idea, but...you're the only person I'd do it for."

He grins, his face brighter than you've seen it since the day you told him you were pregnant, and then he's cupping your cheek in his palm and kissing you just as soundly as he did then. "One condition, though."

"Which is?" you ask.

"That I really am the only one who ever sees it. And that includes Nick."

"Deal."

_{it's not the long walk home that will change this heart  
but the welcome I receive with every start}_

"Detective Tutuola! Have you seen- heyooo..."

Chief Dodds' eyes nearly bug out of his head when he sees you, and for once he's not even looking at your chest. He struggles to quickly regain his professional demeanor, clearing his throat and adjusting the knot on his tie. "I mean, look what we have here- I mean..."

"Chief," you say, keeping your sights trained on him (and there he goes, he's definitely checking out your boobs now). You know that if you look over at Fin, you're liable to crack up, which is probably a bad thing to do in front of your boss. Even if said boss's mouth is still slightly agape. "Should we go talk in my office?"

"I think we better," he says, and you start to get nervous as you make your way behind your desk. Once he gets over the shock and stops gawking, he's inevitably going to ask why you didn't tell him about your pregnancy before this. You know that he can't legally penalize you for it, but yet part of you feels like you're going to be in trouble, like the principal just noticed you're knocked up and now you're about to be kicked out of the 10th grade.

And the idea of being the slutty schoolgirl who's going to be punished- it's hardly an original scenario, but something about it seems _so hot_ right now. (Just not with the chief involved, God no). You make a mental note to discuss this further with The Boyfriend and try to focus on something other than your raging hormones. "I want you to know, Chief, I wasn't trying to hide anything from you. We haven't had a chance to get together, and I wanted to talk with you about it in person, and-"

"How long has it been since we've met? My God, you must be- what, in your third trimester already?"

Um. "I'm 19 weeks along, actually."

"Ah, of course," he says with a nervous laugh. "It's been so long since I've been around a pregnant woman- I can't remember these things! But you're healthy, right? Everything's good?"

You'd be lying if you said you weren't enjoying watching him squirm. "So far, yes."

"But what are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be on maternity leave?"

"Well, I'm going to keep working as long as my doctor allows, because I'm trying to save as much time off as possible for after she's born. Which, since you're here, is what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Thinking of retirement? Not that I blame you-"

"What? No. At least not now, unless-"

"Oh thank God, we can't afford to lose you. So does this mean you're taking the lieutenants' exam? I'd been meaning to bring it up with you and then I heard Ed Tucker saying you were already registered. Does he know you're pregnant? He's such a nosy old bastard...now _there's_ someone I'd like to see retire."

"I've thought about it, and I've decided to hold off on the exam for now," you say, sidestepping the question about Tucker and focusing on appearing confident about this decision. After talking it over with The Boyfriend, you know you're making the right choice, but you also know that you'll be tempted to cave if Dodds raises any of the objections that you yourself had brought up. (Except for the part about you being too big to fit in the desk. That's only acceptable coming from the person who's responsible for your weight gain in the first place). "Once I'm back from maternity leave, I'll reevaluate, but at this point I don't think it'd be beneficial for anyone- me taking on a new position when I can't give it my full focus."

You thought that sounded diplomatic, better than saying you're 'busy with other things' like The Boyfriend had suggested, but in typical Dodds fashion he wasn't about to concede so easily. "It wouldn't be that much of a change from what you're already doing, though, it'd just make your position permanent so you wouldn't be acting CO anymore."

"Believe me, I've thought about it a lot, what it would mean for the unit...but right now I feel like it's for the best, for my squad and my family."

"Family is important," he agrees. "Speaking of which, my son Mike's signed up for the lieutenant's exam. Following in his old man's footsteps."

"That's great. You must be very proud."

"Y'know, I think he could learn a lot from you. What would you say to me reassigning him to SVU for a bit? You're short-handed, I'm sure you could use the help, and then assuming he passes the exam- he could be our new CO."

"Well, I...wow. Might that be a problem, though? Him being in your chain of command?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. As long as it's temporary, we're not breaking any rules." He stands up, looking pleased with his solution. "I'll talk to Mike this afternoon. I'm sure he'll be thrilled."

"Has he worked in SVU before?" you ask, fairly certain that you already know the answer to your question but wanting to confirm.

"No," -just as you suspected- "but he's a smart kid, tries real hard. With you to guide him, he'll be up to speed in no time. Besides, he's getting married soon, so he needs to start getting used to taking orders from a woman!"

He laughs. You do not. "I...I'll look forward to meeting him."

"Hey, one more thing before I go," he says, looking over his shoulder and then leaning forward so he can lower his voice. "Mike and his fiancee, you know, they're wanting to start a family as soon as possible. But Mike, he's had some tests done- and he has a lower than average sperm count."

You cannot fathom what this has to do with anything. "Okay...?"

"I thought maybe since, ah...that you might have a good recommendation for a fertility specialist."

Your eyes widen to the point where you imagine that you must look like a cartoon character. " _Oh_. Well, honestly, I'm afraid I don't. This baby was a...surprise."

"Wow," he says, and you are acutely aware that right now your boss is thinking about you having sex. "That's..." He shakes his head as he starts to back toward the door. "Wow. Good for you!"

"Ah...thanks?"

Once he's gone, you allow yourself a minute or two to recover from whatever _that_ was before planning your next move. You need to find out more about Mike. Who do you know that likes to gossip?

_'nosy old bastard.'_

You dial the extension and wait for a reply. "Lieutenant Tucker, glad I caught you- yes, I'm doing fine, thank you- what? No, I didn't change my mind. But I do have a favor to ask...what do you know about Mike Dodds?"

If he mentions Mike's low sperm count, you're hanging up on him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Thanksgiving- time for sick children, bickering parents, and Nick making his dreams come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Back with another update- this one with a surprising amount of happiness. It almost makes me uncomfortable...I must quickly go back to working on the next TG chapter to balance this one out.
> 
> **A/N:** nothing to warn about here other than a sick child, some parental bickering, and Nick being Nick. Quotes from _in your eyes_ by peter gabriel, for reasons which you will soon discover.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and responding. I love you all :)

"Holy sh- sheet, you're gonna have a baby!"

Nick is barely able to control his language (or his excitement) as he stands at the door to your apartment. At your side is Noah, who's lost self-control altogether and is doing his flailing arms 'dance' while he jabbers loudly to himself. "Uh, you knew that already. We talk about it every day."

"I know. But then I _see_ you and see how much she's growing and...wow. It's been too long."

You reach out and hug him as best you can with both of your children sandwiched in between. "It's only been five weeks. I'm still cleaning up the shi- stuff you brought here for Noah's birthday."

" _Only_? I feel like I've missed so much. I mean, look at you, you're-"

"Careful there," you warn him with a stern look. "Noah, baby, you need to calm down. You're wheezing again."

He ignores you, so Nick scoops him up to put an end to his dance party. "You're so full of energy, aren't you, mi sobrino?"

"They had a little Thanksgiving celebration at daycare this morning," you explain. "And he whined all through his nap, so I'm predicting a meltdown in...eh, I'll give him another half hour. You might wanna escape while you still can."

"Gotta love two year olds. What they don't tell you, though, is that three makes two look like a breeze. I don't know how many times I thought we'd end up selling Zara to the circus before she hit four."

"Thanks for the encouragement." You lean over to press the back of your hand against Noah's cheek. "He feels a little warm."

"Probably just too much excitement. So where's the mister?"

"At the store getting some last-minute stuff he forgot for dinner tomorrow. He tried to get me to go, said that maybe people would take pity and let me cut in line. I said 'nice try, babe'. Speaking of which, did I show you the little outfit I got for Noah to wear?"

You go into Noah's room to show Nick (and Noah) the turkey-adorned bowtie you'd picked out against The Boyfriend's wishes. This was your first 'official' Thanksgiving as a family, and so you wanted it to be special. Originally you had envisioned a quiet holiday with just you, The Boyfriend, and Noah, but then you got a dinner invite from some of The Boyfriend's family and decided to take them up on it. You know that it was probably for the best (and not just because neither of you have ever made a turkey), but you haven't been able to stop feeling uneasy at their extended family gatherings, no matter how often he tries to tell you that you're a part of the group now. The sheer number of people and the noise level can be overwhelming at times, even though you love that Noah's growing up with the big family you never had, and you spend way too much time worrying about what kind of impression you're making and whether they think you're a good enough mother/girlfriend. The latter may be out of your control- but in the meantime, no one will be able to say that your son isn't well-dressed. "What do you think?"

"I think his father probably hates it, am I right?" Nick replies.

"Oh yeah. I won't be surprised if Noah 'loses' it before we even get there." You sit down on the bed, rubbing your stomach gingerly. "I feel like I shouldn't complain. Like it's bad karma."

"But...?"

"It feels like this pregnancy thing is suddenly all catching up to me. My back hurts, I have these constant gas pains- sorry, but it's true- and I wake up about ten times a night because I can't get comfortable and I have to pee. And if you tell me it's only going to get worse-"

"Hey, hey. Breathe."

"What?" you ask. "I'm fine, I'm-"

"Not you, him. He's wheezing again," Nick says, turning around to pick Noah up from where he'd been playing in the corner.

"Noah, baby...momma's gonna go get your inhaler." No rest for the weary here, you think ruefully to yourself as you go into the bathroom to retrieve it. "Here, Nick, can you keep him on your lap while I get this set up?"

Nick starts singing quietly, trying to distract Noah enough for you to slip the mask on over his nose and mouth without a fight. It was easier when he was a baby, before he figured out how to pull it off on his own, and you're going to be incredibly grateful when he's old enough to use a regular inhaler in a few years. But for now, it's a battle of you and this animal-themed mask vs. an uncooperative two year old.

"Here we go, sweetheart. Just relax for me, okay?" You pick up a little plastic handheld mirror you keep on hand for these occasions and turn it toward Noah. "Look at you! You look just like a froggy!"

_I don't *want* to look like a froggy_ , he seems to say, reaching up to yank at the strap that's keeping the mask on his face. When Nick tries to restrain him, he starts to whine. "How much longer does this take, Liv?"

"Oh, we've got at least 15 minutes to go. Get comfy," you tell him as you try to turn Noah's attention toward The Very Hungry Caterpillar. You've implemented all the suggestions you've found online, like letting him pick out a mask and saving special books and movies for treatment times, and yet somehow you still struggle while all the other asthma moms on the internet have these angelic children who can be pacified with such things. Must be nice.

When the treatment is finally complete, you remove the mask and Noah stomps off into the other room without looking back. "Someone's pissed!"

"He does that every time. He'll go sulk for a while until he decides he's ready to forgive me," you tell Nick as you start putting all the supplies away. "Thank you, though. You can imagine how much harder it is to manage when there's just one person at home with him."

"Course. But hey, while I'm thinking about it- what are you and the mister doing on Saturday?"

"Nothing, why?"

"Good. Let me take Noah for the night. I know you guys probably never get time to yourselves as it is, and you'll _really_ never have a chance once you've got a baby too. Amanda and I'll entertain him and you two can...well, I'll let you decide what you do."

"Amanda's okay with this?" you ask. As always, you're conscious of trying not to monopolize his time when he visits. Things between her and you have been good lately, especially after Noah's birthday party, and you don't want to ruin that with a tug of war over Nick.

"She's cool as long as her place doesn't get wrecked. I told her we'd go over to Mami's where it's a little more child-friendly and besides, I know she'll be happy to see little man too."

You get the feeling that this isn't an entirely selfless gesture, that there's going to be a catch at some point. But the idea does sound nice, having a dinner conversation without being interrupted by toddler meltdowns or having sex without worrying about being heard by said toddler through your paper-thin walls (although who are you kidding, you know you'll more than likely fall asleep before you even get to dessert). "Okay, we have a deal. If you're sure."

"You bet I am! I'm going to teach him how to make crafts with kelp since my own kids think it's 'lame'."

"Hmm, I wonder why that is."

"I tell ya, you've gotta enjoy them being little while you can. Gil's having a birthday sleepover at my house, but he won't even let me give the party a theme. All they want to do is eat pizza and play Madden."

"Birrday!" Noah looks up from his blocks and squeals.

"Nice try, sobrino, but you've got about another 11 months before it's birthday time again."

"Birrday." He continues sing-songing 'birrday' to himself and you frown.

"He does that. He repeats everything and it worries me," you tell Nick. "That's a sign of autism, you know."

"What does his speech therapist say?"

"Uh, 'stop bothering me'."

"What? Isn't that her job, to listen to him talk?"

You frown in confusion, then laugh. "No, that's what she's saying to me! Or at least, I'm sure she _wants_ to. She's started just asking if she can 'talk to his father'."

"Oh, so you're _that_ mother," Nick teases, and your face falls.

"It's not funny. I'm just trying to do everything I can, okay? There's so much I'm trying to make up for and...you sound like-"

"Liv. I'm sorry, that was out of line. I know you're a good mom and I know everyone else agrees, promise. Look at this little guy," he says as Noah toddles back toward you. "Now that's a kid who loves his mommy. I can tell."

Noah flops down into your lap, curling up with his head pillowed on your belly. As much as you love mother-and-son cuddle time, it's rare for your energetic little boy to willingly stop playing in favor of snuggles unless he's sick or upset, so you put a hand to his forehead and lean down so you can hear his breathing more clearly. "He's still wheezing."

"What now? Does he need his inhaler again?"

"Normally I'd try it, but..." You look over at the clock- 4:30. On the day before a four day weekend. "You picked a he-ck of a time to get sick. I'd better call the doctor before they close, I don't wanna take any chances." You slide Noah over to Nick's lap. "Keep an eye on him for a minute?"

You reach for your phone and dial the pediatrician's number (#3 on your speed dial). Unfortunately, all you get is a recorded message wishing you a happy thanksgiving and advising you to call the minor emergency clinic. When you follow their instructions, you get another recording telling you that the clinic is closed for the holiday and that if you have an issue, you should go to the ER. You're confused- isn't that the point of a minor emergency clinic, to keep people _out_ of the ER?

With no other options in sight, you go to the closet and pull out the tote bag full of hospital necessities that you keep at the ready. You've been fortunate for the last several months- your last visit was for a bump on the head in July- but you knew your luck was bound to run out as the weather turned colder. "Come on, sweetheart, we're going on a trip."

_{but whichever way I go  
I come back to the place you are}_

"It'll only be a few more hours, Liv, I've got this."

You glare at The Boyfriend from where you're sitting on the bed in a tiny ER treatment room, Noah slumped at your side. "I told you, I'm not leaving him."

"But-"

"He needs me! And what difference is a few hours going to make, anyway?"

He shrugs, sighing under his breath just in case you weren't already aware that he was annoyed with you. It had been a relief when he had walked through the door of your apartment as you were helping Noah get his coat and shoes on. You intended to just text him on the way and ask if he could meet you at the hospital, but this meant he could ride there with you (and apologize with you when Noah threw up in the Uber car. Your account is probably going to be permanently blacklisted).

But in between the vomiting, he kept worrying aloud about how it wasn't good for you to be exposed to whatever germs were lurking in the hospital. You brushed him off, because how bad could it be? You've been in plenty of ERs and, to your knowledge, have never contracted the plague from any of your visits.

The one upside to bringing in a kid with breathing difficulties, if such a thing even exists, is that you usually get bumped to the front of the line so you don't have to wait long. This visit was no exception. However, you also got bitched at by a nurse for not calling your pediatrician first(!) and then you got a lecture about how you shouldn't be there because you were putting your baby at risk.

The Boyfriend was smart enough not to say 'I told you so'. But now that the doctor has gotten Noah settled with a nebulizer and an IV, the conversation went right back to where it started. "He hasn't let go of me since we got here. If I leave, he'll get upset and then it'll just make everything worse."

"And what are you going to do if you get sick? He's gonna be a lot more upset if you end up in here because you came down with God knows what."

"Who says I'll even end up in the hospital if I get sick? I got my flu shot...stop jumping right to the worst case scenario," you say. That's supposed to be _your_ job.

"But it's not just about you anymore."

"Goddamnit," you hiss. "Stop trying to make me feel like a terrible mother for being with my son when he needs me."

"Fine, have it your way," he says as insincerely as possible, going back to thumbing through his phone.

You roll your eyes even though he's not watching and rest your head on the pillow you've positioned to support your neck. He's being a dick, you tell yourself, it's not like you wanted to spend your first night of a four day weekend sitting in the hospital with a sick kid when you were planning on a nice warm bath and an early bedtime (for both mother and son). But when your kid's sick and all he wants is his mommy, what else are you supposed to do? You admit that in the past, you've had moments of jealousy when it seemed like Noah favored The Boyfriend, but right now you'd be more than happy if he decided that Dad was the one he wanted to cling to.

Noah and you are both dozing off several minutes later when you feel something and almost fall off the bed.

"Jesus, Liv, you okay?"

"That's it! It's her!" you gasp, clutching your stomach.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing! She kicked!"

"You sure about that this time?" he asks, and you don't even bother to glare at him in response. You'd already been through two false alarms, including one where you were almost certain of what you felt until you called Melinda, whose professional opinion was that the sensations you were feeling were due to gas. Secretly, you thought she had gotten it wrong. But this felt like something different altogether.

"I am. Are you going to argue with me? Because I don't remember you ever being pregnant."

"No, no, I'm not doubting you. Never. Can I feel?"

"You may not," you say, turning toward Noah and putting his little palm on your belly even though you know it's doubtful that he'll be able to feel anything. "Hey sweetheart, your sister's saying hi to you."

And there it is again, that little flutter, and right now you don't care about the backaches or heartburn or sleepless nights because this is your _daughter_ , she's real and she's growing and she's making her presence known. You know that it might not always feel this magical, that pretty soon there's going to be a much bigger foot jabbing you in the ribs and dancing on your bladder, but for now it's the most unbelievably amazing thing you've ever felt and all you can think of is _I can't wait to meet you._

She gives you one more kick before she goes still. You stay silent and unmoving for a few more minutes like you're lying in wait for a suspect, but she seems to have settled down for now. You take a book out of your hospital bag and show Noah the cover. "Do you want Momma to read you a story?"

"So'm I getting the silent treatment now?" The Boyfriend asks.

"If you were, do you think I'd answer?"

He smirks. "Got you to talk."

"I wasn't _not_ speaking to you in the first place...were you always this annoying? How did I ever manage to work with you?"

"We've done more than just work together," he says, and you swear you would physically remove him from this room yourself if it wouldn't involve leaving Noah's side.

"Yeah, well, that's all you're good for. As long as I don't have to hear you talking..."

"That's funny, cause I seem to remember you like it when I-"

"Oh god, shut up." You frown, looking over at Noah. "...which is something we don't say, because it's not nice. Thanks, Dad."

The Boyfriend stands up like he's going to walk over to your side of the room, but the icy stare you're giving him is enough to scare him into sitting back down. "Liv...I'm sorry."

"You should be." You sigh and run a hand over your messy hair. "I'm trying to do the best I can, okay? And I get that you're concerned, but this is not the time to guilt trip me."

"I'm not trying to."

"Well, it sure feels like it. Because if I'm here with Noah, then I might get sick and that's not good for Lilly. But if I'm at home, then maybe I'll stay healthy, but I won't be there for Noah when he needs me. Do you see that? Damned if I do, damned if I don't."

"I think that's called being a parent," he says with a little chuckle. "Believe me, I get it."

"Yeah, but it's different for me."

"I know...you're right. Can I?" he asks, nodding toward the edge of the bed, and you silently nod back.

"I still feel like..." you mumble, picking at a loose thread on the sheet underneath you. "Like I'm going to let you down. Or myself, or one of the kids." You turn your head and give him a sad smile. "I used to feel like I was this selfless person- look at me, I go to work every day and help people- but it wasn't until Noah came along that I realized thinking of myself was pretty much all I ever did. I never really had anyone else to think about, except my mom, and you know how that went. But once she was gone and it was just me...it was exactly that, just me, and if someone was in my way, I got rid of them. As you know."

"I think I recall that, yeah," he teases gently.

"But now I've figured it out...kinda. At least, it seems like I'm starting to get the hang of this family thing. And now there's another person being added to the mix and...what if I can't do it and then everybody suffers? Y'know, I thought it'd be good, having all this time to prepare before Lilly gets here, but now I'm not so sure. Maybe it's just making me neurotic."

"You do have a, um, tendency to overthink sometimes."

You smile, reaching for his hand. "Good thing I have you to talk me out of it."

"Oh, so I _am_ good for more than one thing now? I see."

"Well...yeah. I mean, you're always the one who trusts me, even when I don't trust myself. Without you I'd..." You trail off, not wanting to get too deep and emotional while you can hear a kid throwing up in the next room, and you lean toward him until your foreheads are touching. "But I might still be pissed at you. How are you gonna make that up to me?"

"I dunno, I was thinking about making reservations for us at this Brazilian steakhouse on Saturday night. They bring the food right to your table- all you can eat."

"That'll work!" you say quickly, your heart leaping at the thought of someone serving you unlimited steak. "Hon?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I just fell in love with you all over again."

_{without a noise, without my pride  
I reach out from the inside}_

It wasn't like you were expecting a perfect Thanksgiving in the first place.

You weren't completely dreading it, but you knew something would go wrong. Noah would misbehave in front of The Boyfriend's family, or you'd bump into someone and make them spill the entire contents of their plate onto the floor, or The Boyfriend's mother would make some sort of comment about your parenting skills that you wouldn't know how to decipher and you'd spend the rest of the evening debating about what she really meant by it.

You were prepared for those sorts of scenarios. You _hadn't_ planned on spending the holiday stuck in your apartment with Noah, giving him hourly inhaler treatments or nose drops or antibiotics, but that's what ended up happening. When it became clear Noah wasn't going anywhere today, you told The Boyfriend that he should go see his family without you and you'd stay with the little patient. He said no, that he didn't want to be away from the two of you, but you weren't having it. For one, he doesn't get to see his family as much as he should. It's hard to get everybody in one place at the same time and it's only going to get harder when the baby comes, so you thought he should take the opportunity now while he still could. Secondly, you and Noah were not great company. You gave him his medicine, he went back to sleep, and then you napped alongside him until it was time for the next dose. He wasn't going to miss anything more exciting than you complaining about your backache.

And lastly (but most importantly), you wanted him to bring home all the leftovers he could get his hands on. Because you could cope with missing the festivities- but you were NOT going to miss out on the feast.

You had just put Noah down for a nap when you got a late-afternoon text from Nick, asking if he could come over and deliver some food that his mom had set aside for you.

_[this is the best possible thing you could say to a pregnant woman. get over here ASAP]_

You practically knocked him over when you opened the door, going right into the kitchen to start eating rice and beans straight out of the Tupperware container. "Thank you. I owe you. I owe you my firstborn. Do you want Noah?"

"Did your baby daddy really leave you with nothing to eat?"

"Eh, we have food...but not like this, oh _God_ this is good. And he'll bring me leftovers."

"Then maybe you should hold off? You don't want to spoil your appetite- or you know what, you go right ahead. Eat whatever you want," he assures you once he sees the look on your face.

"Oh, I will. Where's Amanda?"

"Bonding with my mom. I don't think either of them even realized I left." He pauses. "Wait. How am I going to tell my mom I'm dating someone else? It'll break her heart."

"Are you? I thought you and the animal shelter woman were just friends."

"Well...not in the way you and I are friends. I tried! I tried, okay, I did what you told me and treated her like I would if I was with you. But then I was over at her place, and she goes 'it's late and it's raining out, are you sure you want to drive home?' She offered to let me stay and I thought to myself- I stay overnight at Liv's all the time, no big deal. We never have sex, right?"

"Uh. Right," you say, frowning because you can already tell where this story's headed.

"I thought she was just being friendly. Like you. I didn't know she was expecting that we'd..."

"Nick, my god, how long has it been since you've been on a date?"

"An actual date? Uh, not since Maria. And she lived at home and her parents are the real strict religious type, so if I stayed over I'd have to sleep in her brother's room." He gives you one of those puppy dog looks and shrugs. "I'm a simple guy, Liv, I take people at their word."

"Since _when_?"

"Since you told me to pretend she was you! I mean, we've even slept in the same bed and nothing happened. It's like I said before, I've never once tried to touch your-"

"Stay on topic. Please."

"So...okay. I didn't sleep with her. Well, I did. We slept in the same bed. But what I mean is- stuff went on, stuff I haven't done with you, but it wasn't-"

"I get it!" you promise, holding up your free hand to stop him as your other hand scoops up the last of the rice with your fork. "Stuff was done. What now?"

"I don't know! I'm not good at this dating thing. Other than Maria...all my other relationships just sorta _happened_. There wasn't all this...anyway, I guess I have to call her back so that I can get an appointment to go see the puppy I want."

"Your priorities are admirable."

"I'm serious! And I mean, she's great and everything...but I don't want to string her along and make her think she has a chance."

"Just be honest," you say. "Even if it's not what she wants to hear, she'll appreciate that you told the truth. If you lie, even to spare her feelings, it'll blow up on you."

"Funny you should bring that up, about lying," he says with a nervous laugh.

"Why is that funny?"

"Before I tell you, promise you won't be pissed. And you'll support me no matter what."

"Nick..."

"It's good news!" he assures you. "I made the cut! I'm going to be on Wheel of Fortune- you remember how that's my lifelong dream, right?"

"Uh-huh. So what's the lie?"

"Uh. It's actually...so you know how I had to make that video to introduce myself? And I wanted it to be really memorable, so I talked about being a veteran and a retired cop, about being injured in the line of duty, and. Um. I might've said something about how I'd use my prize money to support my pregnant fiance." You nod, otherwise occupied by opening a container of cranberry salad. "And they liked it! They liked it so much that they want me to be on Sweetheart's Week. With my fiance."

"Amaro, if this is going where I think it's going..."

"I'm begging you, Liv. I need you to come on Wheel of Fortune with me and pretend we're engaged. That's all I'm asking."

Suddenly his generosity in offering to babysit and bringing you food is making so much sense. "That's _all_?"

"C'mon! Friends for life, right? We always have each other's backs. That's what friends do, they help each other."

"This is why I don't have friends- and I'm including you in that. Since when do friends ask you to go on a game show and pretend like they're your...why can't Amanda be your fiance?"

"For one, we're in a tricky spot relationship-wise, and if I ask her for her hand in an imaginary marriage...you just don't do those things! Plus she's not pregnant," he points out.

"Did you think about this at all before you made this video? What you were going to do if they wanted to meet this nonexistent woman?"

"Course," he scoffs. "I thought about it and I knew you'd say yes, because that's the kind of loyal friend you are."

You stab at a cranberry with your fork. "And it never occurred to you to run this one past me before you submitted the video?"

"Liv, I'm a desperate man. Now's not the time for second guessing. When have I ever wanted something this much?"

"Uh, when you slept with a woman to get a puppy, when Amanda was mad at you and so you reenacted Say Anything outside her building-"

"It wasn't a reenactment. I would never play Peter Gabriel music in public!" he says, shaking his head like you've lost your mind.

"Because In Your Eyes makes you cry like a baby," you supply for him. "But we're getting off topic. For one thing, I don't even really know how to play Wheel of Fortune."

"You just spin the wheel. I'll do all the talking."

"That doesn't make me feel any better. What are you going to say when they ask you about me and 'our' baby? Hell, how am I going to explain this to-"

"Don't worry, I'll talk to him about it," Nick says. "He'll understand."

"Because he's such an understanding guy. He'll have no problem with you introducing me as your wife on national TV."

"Fiance," he corrects you. "And if he was that protective- well, it's not my fault I put a ring on it first."

"I don't see a ring."

He groans and gets down on one knee (which isn't easy for him, and you almost take pity and tell him to stand up, but this is just too good). He clears his throat, eyeing your ring, so you play along and drop it into his palm. "Olivia I don't know your middle name Benson, will you and Lilly go on Wheel of Fortune with me and be my fake fiance and child?"

"How do you not know my middle name?"

"Do you even have one?"

"Um, yes?" He clears his throat again and holds out the ring. "Fine, fine, I will. But you're paying for my flight, for my meals while I'm down there- and I eat a lot- plus I'm going to need something to wear that won't make me look fat on camera..."

He cheers and jumps to his feet- well, as much as he _can_ jump- throwing his arm around you and snapping a selfie.

You see it later that night on Instagram. Caption: **SHE SAID YES!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex and steak- Olivia is living her dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's been a while since I've updated this one, but I'm back! :D
> 
>  **A/N:** this one is for all of you who wanted smut...you know who you are. There *is* a plot, but there's also sex and this may be NSFW. I suppose that depends on where you work. Quotes from _underneath your clothes_ by shakira.
> 
> Between this and the other EO one-shot I posted not long ago, I've reached my max on happiness and I'm off to go write a particularly heartwrenching TG chapter. Byeeeee. But thanks in advance to everyone who reads and responds. :)

"Are you ready yet?"

"We've got plenty of time," you call out from behind the closed bathroom door. "Do you really think I'd be late for this?"

"No, but I didn't think you needed to get this dressed up to eat steak."

"And chicken, and ribs, and shrimp," you add dreamily, taking a final look in the mirror before dousing your curls in hairspray. Yes, maybe you were a bit overdone- but goddamnit, this was your night and you were going to enjoy it. You'd cut your typical morning hair-and-makeup routine way back in the last month or two, wanting to devote as much time as possible to sleep, and in the past few weeks it seemed like you had rotated between the same couple of comfortable outfits day after day.

But tonight you wanted something different. After three days of being homebound with a sick Noah and wearing nothing but sweatpants, you were ecstatic at the chance to get out and you channeled that energy into making yourself look a little nicer than usual.

You smoothed down your skirt and checked your phone once again for any messages from Nick. Noah was feeling much better now that the antibiotics had kicked in, but he still wasn't quite 100 percent, and you hoped that meant he'd go to bed without a fight and not be a holy terror for Nick and Amanda.

No messages, just a picture sent by Amanda showing Nick and Noah up to their elbows in some sort of paint. _[he says don't worry, all natural and nontoxic gluten-free]_

You drop your phone in your purse and slip on your shoes- flats only these days, even though your favorite stilettos would've gone perfectly with your outfit- before you make your grand appearance in the living room. "How do I look?"

He gives you a low whistle of appreciation when he turns around, reaching over the back of the couch for your hand.

"Is that a yes, then?" you ask, grinning flirtatiously.

"It's a 'maybe we should'-"

"Hold it. Hold it right there. If you're going to suggest we skip dinner...don't even joke about something like that."

He starts to laugh, but you weren't kidding, and he apologizes as he helps you put on your coat. "Sorry, that was thoughtless of me."

"It really was! You tease me with all this food, and then you act like you're kidding? No way. I'm gonna test how stretchy the material of this dress really is." Another reason for getting dressed up tonight was so that you'd have a chance to wear the new dress you'd bought earlier in the week. You'd picked it out specifically for Lilly's baptism, but you'd spent more than you expected and so you felt like you should find as many opportunities as possible to wear it- and you sincerely hoped you wouldn't be wearing maternity clothes for long after she was born.

"It looks good on you."

"Thanks," you say, looking down at the light green fabric. "I'm starting to wish I'd gotten a darker color, but I figured black was too depressing for church."

The subject of having Lilly baptized Catholic had been the latest source of contention, and ultimately compromise, in your house. You yourself had been baptized in your grandparents' parish at their demand, but neither you nor your mother ever attended church beyond the occasional Christmas eve mass. Having Lilly baptized when you hadn't even worked out exactly what role religion was going to play in her life felt disingenuous to you, like the spiritual equivalent of going to a grocery store to eat all the samples without actually buying anything. But in The Boyfriend's family, baptism was a non-negotiable tradition regardless of how religiously inclined you were (or weren't). Ultimately you gave in because you realized that having her baptized meant a lot more to him than not having her baptized meant to you. Your one condition, though, was that he was responsible for all the arrangements. This may be your first pregnancy, but you're already pretty sure you're not going to be up to planning a party less than a month after you've given birth. The Boyfriend agreed to your terms and then called Nick to pass off the job onto him.

Both of you were getting better at the fine art of compromise in your relationship. This was fortunate, because you were about to ask him to do some compromising of his own.

"You want to do _what_?" he asks when you casually mention the subject at dinner, nearly choking on a bite of pao de queijo.

"Pretend to be Nick's fiance on Wheel of Fortune."

"Say that again."

"You heard me," you say. "People are staring and you don't need to make a scene."

"I would stare too, because that's the craziest thing I've ever heard you, or anyone, say!"

"I don't know- remember back at SVU when that one woman tried to poison her husband because she thought he was having an affair with a horse?"

"I should take a survey of everyone here, and I guarantee none of them would think this plan of yours is a good one," he says, signaling to the waiter that you're ready for more steak.

"Nick's helped us out a lot, and he's had a rough few years. It's not like I'm dying to be on a game show, but if I can help make his dream come true..."

He huffs. "So you said yes when he asked you to be his fake wife, but yet you won't marry me."

"But when- _if_ we get married, it'll be for real," you remind him, reaching across the table to put your hand on top of his.

This seems to reassure him somewhat. "Can he at least say that the baby isn't his?"

"What? So you want a national TV audience to think that I'm engaged to one guy and pregnant with someone else's baby?" You shake your head, polishing off another piece of bacon-wrapped chicken. "This is all about your weird caveman pride in knocking me up."

"I am proud! Can you blame me?" He smirks and you roll your eyes. _Men_.

_{when the friends are gone, when the party's over  
we will still belong to each other}_

"You feeling okay?" The Boyfriend asks when you get home and collapse onto the couch.

"Fine, fine."

"Don't tell me you're still thinking about that idiot maitre'd."

"Maybe I am." When you had first arrived at the restaurant and sat down at your table, the young waiter had looked straight at you and asked if you wanted to see a wine list. At first you had shrugged it off as an honest mistake, that he was so accustomed to asking the question that it came out automatically, but now you weren't so sure. "Seriously. I thought I had moved past that is-she-pregnant-or-just-fat stage."

"You don't look fat. Especially wearing that...you can clearly tell that's a baby," he adds tiredly.

"Uh-huh."

"What do you want me to say? It's the truth. Not bullshitting you."

"I know you're not." He sits down next to you and you're quick to rest your head on his shoulder, putting a hand on your belly in case Lilly starts kicking again. You'd had a lot of anxieties and insecurities over the years, but you had been relatively confident about your appearance for most of your life, especially once you were an adult and didn't have to hear 'you and your mother look nothing alike, you must be a carbon copy of your father' from well-meaning strangers. Not that it was any better at home, with your mom either picking apart your every feature or telling you that you were 'too pretty, it's going to get you in trouble.' It certainly messed you up for a while, and you did some stupid things in your twenties because you were so taken with _anyone_ who found you attractive, but you eventually got to a place where you were comfortable with yourself and didn't need that constant reassurance.

And then everything was turned upside down. You were never going to be able to think of yourself the same way, not after spending days hearing that you're _«so pretty»_ from someone who saw you as nothing more than an object that was his to torment. You tried to change, you cut your hair and did your makeup differently and got an entirely new wardrobe, but none of that did anything to help you forget about the scars underneath, especially not when you yourself were still adding to them.

They're something that you're self conscious about to this day, and having them get darker and more prominent as your skin stretches hasn't helped. But you've finally started to believe The Boyfriend when he tells you over and over that they honestly don't bother him, and you've stopped scrutinizing them in the mirror because you're too preoccupied with your growing belly- your constant reminder that your daughter is real and she's healthy and thriving.

So after everything you've been through, you can accept the small stuff, like how you're never going to look like the twentysomethings on Instagram with their tiny round baby bumps because you weren't a size zero to begin with. But for Christ's sake, if you look more 'fat' than 'pregnant' now, what the hell are you going to look like once Lilly's born?

"Does it matter?"

"Hmm?" you ask, not realizing that you had said that last part aloud.

"I'm just saying, does it matter? Cause personally I don't care if- huh."

"Huh?"

"There's no way to say what I wanna say without pissing you off." He rubs his chin in thought, ridiculous beard crinkling under his touch.(He's still insisting that he won't shave until the baby comes). "But I _like_ you with...I'm not expecting you to lose all this weight as soon as the baby comes, for one-"

"Well, I think we can assume I'll drop the part that's actually baby," you point out.

"Yeah, there's that. But realistically, you're close to menopause, so your metabolism-"

"Okay, if you're trying to make me feel better, you're failing," you say, elbowing him in the ribs. "For someone with so many women in your life, you sure haven't learned when to shut up."

"All I'm saying is, you look good w-"

"If you're about to say 'I like you better with meat on your bones' or something equally gross, I'm going to hurt you. I'm not a cow."

"I would never say something that demeaning. I was actually going to make a comment about the size of your ass- hey!" he protests as you smack him lightly in the back of the head.

"I hate you. I don't even care that you tried to win my love with steak."

"Liar," he says, laughing as you try to squirm away from him when he starts tickling your sides.

Your fake fighting quickly gave way to real kissing, and you stop him when you feel his hand sliding up your thigh and under your skirt. "Hey...hold up."

"You okay?" he stops kissing you to ask, palm still cupping your cheek and forehead touching yours. You nod and he chuckles. "Just remembered you're still mad at me?"

"I am. I'm just using you for sex," you assure him. "But I wanna...give me a second and I'll be right back."

You get up and head into the bedroom before he can ask questions, shutting the door behind you and reaching into your underwear drawer until you find what's buried beneath all the bras that you can't even dream of fitting into in your current state. Last week you had gone browsing through a maternity lingerie shop on a whim, but you couldn't find anything like what you were envisioning and you were put off by the stupid slogan of 'make him remember how you got this way'. (You're pretty sure he hasn't forgotten). You ended up finding better options at a place across the street, an outlet store for one of those fancy European boutiques where they sell thongs that cost as much as Noah's monthly daycare tuition. The pricetags at this shop still made your eyes water a little, but it was worth it to walk away with exactly what you wanted- a black lace slip that clung to your curves and came just short of covering your ass. The real beauty of it, though, was how it was entirely see-through, and yet the rose pattern embroidered into the lace still managed to camouflage all your scars. When you tried it on and saw that the neckline was even high enough to cover the marks on your chest, you were practically sobbing with gratitude, much to the amusement of the saleslady.

So you change, fluff up your wavy hair, and debate putting on another coat of lipstick before deciding that might get messy. Damn. You look pretty fucking hot for being 47 years old and 20 weeks pregnant, if you do say so yourself.

The Boyfriend seems to agree. "What the...wow," he stammers after you call him into the bedroom in a singsong voice. "Is...that's new?"

"No. I've been wearing it to work for two weeks," you say dryly.

"Now I understand why the chief can't stop staring at you."

"Think he's bad? You should see Tucker."

The Boyfriend makes a face like he just smelled something terrible. "Can we _not_ talk about him every time we're about to-"

"You were the one who mentioned him before!" you point out, laughing at his expression. "C'mere. I'll make you forget allll about him."

He grins as he picks up his phone and holds it out toward you. "So can I...?"

Your first thought was that you are not nearly drunk enough for this. Being stone cold sober makes you too self-conscious and too aware of all the ways that things could go wrong. But after reassurances that the evidence would stay on the removable memory card, not the phone, and that said card would stay in the safe, you relented.

"I probably want people to see these even less than you do," The Boyfriend says, and you have to admit that he's likely right about that.

You felt a little shy and awkward in the beginning, ruining every shot because you were laughing nervously and thinking about how you would kill for a couple shots of tequila right about then, but after a few minutes you found that being the center of your 'photographer's' focused attention was actually quite a turn on. And apparently you weren't the only one who felt that way. As much as you were trying to play the part of the willing subject and behave yourself, you couldn't resist teasing him about the obvious tent in his pants. "I don't think that's very professional, hmm?"

"Fuck off."

"Yeah, let's," you say, laughing and trying to grab the phone out of his hands as he climbs onto the bed. He's got his arms and legs bracketing you on both sides and when he starts kissing you hungrily, you're more than happy to return the gesture with just as much enthusiasm. Lately you had been too tired and achy for any sort of in-bed activity that wasn't, well, _sleeping_ , but your energy and your sex drive were back in full force tonight. And with excellent timing, no less. "God. I missed this."

"I missed-" he says, pecking at your lips and then kissing downward in between words, "Everything. About. You."

"You mean you missed _those_ ," you say as he nuzzles at your cleavage.

"They're included in 'everything'." His lips travel back up your neck and you giggle as the coarse hair on his face rubs against your skin. "Here, sit up a little."

He grabs a couple of pillows and sticks them behind your back so that you're reclining at an angle. You're under doctor's orders not to lie flat for too long, so he must intend for you to stay in this position for a while, and your heartbeat quickens in anticipation at the thought. Even Lilly must know something's up with Mom, because you can feel two fluttery kicks to the inside of your abdomen. "Oh..."

"You alright, Liv?"

"Better than that," you say as he settles himself in between your legs. "I think we woke the baby up."

He rubs your stomach through the lace, smiling tenderly as he looks down. "Can you be a good girl and give us a few minutes of privacy?"

"A few minutes? Is that all? Gotta say, I'm disappointed."

"Then I guess I'll have to fix that." He draws one strap down over your shoulder, then the other, until the fabric is bunched just under your breasts and the straps are holding your upper arms tightly against your sides.

You groan when you realize what he's doing. "Oh fuck. Yes."

"Yeah?" It's maybe the closest he's come to tying you up, something you've wanted for a long time but he's always said no to, so this is quite the surprise. "And you'll tell me if you change your mind?" You nod, already trying to clench your thighs together to get some relief. But it's no use when he's still got your legs spread out on either side of his own, and when he sees what you're doing, his only reaction is to push them apart a little further and lean in so that his clothed erection is about a millimeter away from brushing against you. "No. And keep your hands down."

You grab the sheets in your fists as his fingertips start skimming lightly over your breasts, careful to not come close to your nipples. He circles around them, traces the underside of each breast, and you arch your back off of the pillow as he slowly moves his fingers in smaller and smaller spirals.

"How does this feel?" he asks in a low voice. "You act like you want something."

"Mmmyeah," you agree, shifting around so you can feel the straps digging into your arms as he watches you with amusement. He keeps his gaze locked on yours as he reaches between your legs and drags one finger over you through the satin covering your center, stopping just short of your clit. You whine in protest and then he swipes his finger over the swollen little bud. It's barely more than a tap, and it does nothing but make you that much wetter, something he hasn't failed to notice.

"Was that what you wanted?" He's got you completely under his control, your arms restrained and his strong hands keeping your thighs apart, and it's hard to tell who's enjoying it more.

"No...fuck. I want you to touch me," and you shake your head to clarify before he can speak. " _Really_ touch me. C'mon."

He reaches underneath your ass to tilt your hips upward and then lowers his head, mouthing at the soaked fabric of your panties before placing a sweet kiss right above your pelvic bone and then...nothing? "Too bad."

" _What_?"

"I said, too bad." Without warning, he rolls one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger and tugs at it roughly. "Because you're gonna come for me. Just like this."

You have no doubt that you can, but you're unable to resist asking "...and if I don't?"

"You will. I'm not stopping until you do." He sucks your nipple into his mouth and strokes the hard peak with the flat of his tongue, and thank _God_ that Noah's safely on the other side of town, because there's no way he'd be able to sleep through the noise you're making. The Boyfriend shifts to support himself with one hand, careful to keep his weight off of you as he takes your other breast in his palm and starts kneading it firmly. He bites at the sensitive spot just above your nipple and then takes more of your breast into his mouth while you thrash around underneath him.

Your upper body is arched so sharply toward him that it feels like all your blood is rushing to your head, creating this deliciously floaty feeling as you edge closer and closer to ecstasy. He's got both of your breasts cupped in his hands, pushed together and sliding his tongue back and forth in the cleft between them, and you must be about to draw blood from the way you're digging your fingernails into your palms. "I'm...that's. You're..."

He's somehow able to correctly interpret that, pinching both of your nipples so hard that your eyes are watering as you come. "Fuckfuck _fuck_...oh my god. Oh. God."

"I told you so," he murmurs in your ear.

"Shut up and- I need you." While that was an incredible orgasm considering that he barely touched you below the waist, you still had plenty of pent-up sexual frustration that needed an outlet _now_.

"Need me to do what?" he asks, and you almost feel like you should commend him for the amount of self-control it must take for him to be an asshole when he could be fucking you instead.

"Fuck me. Hard." That must have been all he needed to hear in order to get his priorities straight, because he's stripped off his boxers before you can even finish getting the words out. He does the same with your underwear and is reaching for the silky straps around your arms when you stop him. "No. Leave it."

"Liv..." He hesitates, playing with the hem of your slip that has now ridden up over your belly.

" _Please_."

He nods and motions for you to move to the foot of the bed, your toes gripping the edge of the mattress, and you shiver with anticipation as he lines himself up with your entrance.

"You're a dirty girl," he growls, burying himself inside you to the hilt. He pulls almost all of the way out and then back in again, and again, and again, your whole body moving with every thrust as your arms stay helplessly bound to your sides. "That's it, Liv, take it. Take it all."

You've got your legs as far apart as humanly possible, and he's holding onto your thighs for better leverage as he manages to hit all the right spots. "That's- _oh_! Right there, again, I..."

"You feel so good, baby," he huffs, both of you glistening all over with sweat from the exertion. He reaches down and strokes your clit with his thumb, grinning as you start to shake and tighten around him. "Come for me, that's my good girl-" he chokes off as he spills into you. "Ah...fuck. Love you."

"Love you," you repeat as he carefully pulls out of you, brushing your lips with his and then helping you get your slip off over your head. The straps have left dark pink marks across your arms, bisecting some old burn scars, and you whisper _'fuck'_ to yourself as you admire them. You know they'll disappear within a few minutes, but you wish they wouldn't.

"Lilly still awake?" The Boyfriend asks from inside the bathroom.

"Yup, but I think she's getting tired. Or maybe that's just me." You roll over onto your side, eyelids getting heavy. "I can't wait until you and Noah can feel her too."

"Probably won't be long."

You hear him come back into the bedroom and then feel a warm washcloth on your inner thigh. "Mmm thank you. That's nice. Even if I _did_ distract you from your photo shoot."

"It was worth it. And besides, the night's still young," he says in a suggestive tone.

"Yeah, but _I'm_ not." You look over at the bedside clock. 9:30. "I'll probably be up to pee in an hour anyway. You can jump me then...think you can wait that long or is that past your bedtime?" The hand between your legs not-so-subtly brushes over a sensitive spot and you let out a soft whine, your body responding like you didn't just have multiple orgasms less than ten minutes ago. "Or now, now's good too."

He just chuckles and kisses your forehead, covering you up with a throw blanket that you'd kicked to the floor earlier. "Sleep. Both of you. I'll be right here when you wake up."

"Love you," you slur through a yawn, dozing off before you can even hear the reply.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The squad gets a new member, Nick gets a new friend, and Amanda has a surprising favor to ask of Liv.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! After a long break, I'm back with a short (and hopefully sweet) update. 
> 
> **A/N:** Nothing to warn for other than a little consensual sex and so much sweetness that your teeth might rot. Quotes from _better things_ by the kinks.
> 
> Thank you in advance for reading and responding! Comments are always gratefully received. :)

"Well, well, well. Would you look at this warm welcome?"

The Chief steps off of the elevator with a younger man at his side, marveling at the tinsel strewn here and there throughout the room. His face lights up even more when he sees the open box of donuts. "Look at that, son, they even brought refreshments! Is this a great group or what?"

"Of course we did," you say, not mentioning that the decorations and treats were actually for the floor Christmas party. You didn't know to expect Dodds Jr today, because his father had neglected to mention when he'd be starting at SVU. 

"And my God, look at you. You're ready to have that baby any day now!"

"Actually, Chief, I'm still due in April."

He looks over at the desk calendar, which has "December 20th, 2015" printed on it in bold font, and you can see him doing the calculations in his head. "My God. Well, I'm sure it'll fly by!"

"I'm sure it will." Your eyes meet those of your new co-sergeant, who seems to recognize your polite smile for what it is and gives you a little smirk. Huh. Maybe this guy won't be so bad...if only you can stop thinking about his low sperm count every time you see him. _Damnit!_

Proud Papa Dodds asks you to all gather around while he introduces you to his son and highlights his many accomplishments, starting with a Perfect Attendance award he received from his preschool at the age of three. By the time he got to Dodds Jr's commendation from Mayor Bloomberg for his work on a taskforce dedicated to cracking down on exotic animal ownership, Mike is shuffling his feet and looking down at the ground in embarrassment. "But I don't want to take up too much of your time, so let me just say that I have no doubt my boy will be an asset to SVU."

"And we're so grateful to have him. Aren't we, guys?" You turn toward your squad to gauge their reactions. Amanda and Fin appear to be mostly asleep, but Carisi nods in agreement and claps his hands together a few times.

"It's an honor, Sergeant Dodds."

"Yeah, I...thanks. Glad to be here," Mike says, cheeks still on fire. "Looking forward to learning a lot from all of you."

"Atta boy, son. How about you get to know your new detectives while I talk with Sergeant Benson here for a second?"

You're worried that the chief is about to give you a lecture on the care and feeding of his son, but (thank God) he just wanted to follow up on an open child luring case from Staten Island. Of course, he did have to end the conversation by shaking his head at you in wonderment. "April, huh? Really?"

"Really."

"Hey, uh, Liv. D'you have a minute?" Amanda asks.

You look over at your new charge, who Carisi seems to have taken an instant liking to. "Carisi, would you do me a favor and give Sergeant Dodds the grand tour?"

"Yeah, of course. But it's 10:30- don't forget your banana." You nod and take the piece of fruit from him, unpeeling it as Amanda follows you into your office.

"So what can I do for you, Rollins?" She seems a little uncomfortable, and you're worried that this means that either she's in trouble or wants to ask you something about Nick. Maybe both. "Or are you volunteering to take my spot on Wheel of Fortune?"

"Oh no, no. That's...I wouldn't want to deprive you of that experience. I actually wanted to ask you for a favor. But I mean, I know it might be weird, and I promise that if you don't want to- I'll understand. No hard feelings."

"Okay...so what's the favor?"

"Well. You probably don't know- actually, I'm sure you don't know because I haven't told anyone except Nick. But over the summer, I started going to this group. A therapy group for assault survivors."

"Wow," you say, instantly cringing at the way that came out. You're definitely surprised because you knew she wasn't a fan of therapists, but you didn't want to make a big deal out of it. "I mean, good for you. I guess it's been helpful if you've been going for that long?"

"It really has. I wasn't sure how I'd feel at first, but I've gotten pretty close with the other women and...they're really supportive. I've learned a lot from them."

"That's great, Amanda. Honestly." You're genuinely happy that she's getting help, of course, but you're also silently admiring the courage she must have to be able to open up to strangers like that. It's something you were never able (and still aren't able) to do. 

Her cheeks turn pink at hearing your praise. "Thanks. Uh, so now that we've been together as a group for about six months, we're having this weekend thing out on Long Island, to kinda look back on how we've grown and celebrate and...we're supposed to bring somebody who's been a support person for us. A female. And most of the women are bringing their mom or a sister, a few are bringing their best friend or another relative but...wow. This is so awkward, but I was wondering if you'd come with me." 

"You want me to-"

"I know it's a strange thing to ask, and it's probably really unprofessional, but I- you can say no, you don't even have to give me a reason. I could invite one of the girls I know from GA meetings, or-"

"Amanda," you say gently before she can get even more worked up. "I'm...this is surprising, but I'm really honored that you trust me enough to want me there." Which is true. You can definitely relate to the problem of not having family members to depend on in these situations, and becoming pregnant has made you realize just how important your few female friends really are to you. "I need to make sure that Noah's taken care of, but I doubt either of them would mind having a father/son weekend...so as long as that's settled and I'm healthy, then I'd love to go with you." 

"That's o- wait, seriously?" she asks, obviously already expecting that you would say no.

"Seriously. This is a huge thing, something I can tell you've worked hard at, and I want to be there to support you."

"Oh god, thank you Se- I mean, Liv..." she stammers.

You can tell that she's close to tearing up, so you reach over as far as you can to try touching her hand. "You're welcome. But I have to ask you to get out of my office if you're going to cry, because then I'll start crying too and I'll be a big mess for the rest of the day. You laugh, but it's true! I get going and I can't stop. It's pretty disgusting."

"Okay, you're right. We can't worry the boys like that."

"Speaking of boys, I wanted to make sure...you're really okay with me doing this whole Wheel of Fortune thing with Nick?" You know that her relationship with him is a bit shaky, and you don't want your made for TV marriage to complicate it even more.

"Ha! Are you kidding? Better you than me. I promise, zero hard feelings here. It'll be the highlight of his life and I'm just happy I'll have nothing to do with it."

"Alright, if you're sure. But if you change your mind and decide you want to take my place..."

She laughs. "Don't worry, that won't happen."

"Hey, the way I look at it- it's only an hour. It'll make him happy, and maybe I'll be able to add a nice sum of money to the kids' college funds."

"You'll be lucky if you win enough for them to buy a latte at the campus Starbucks." She snickers and shakes her head, one hand over her mouth. "You _have_ seen him play along with the TV, haven't you?"

"No? I mean, I just assumed that he must be somewhat good at it since it's his favorite."

"Oh Liv," she says, still grimacing. "He's _terrible_."

"What? But then...how did he get through the audition?"

"I dunno. He told me he aced it, so I'm thinking it was a fluke and he just got hot at the right time...or else he actually sucked and they invited him on the show for comedic value. Maybe he's getting punked." 

You groan through your teeth, head tilting back as you rub at your eyes. "Great."

_{the very best of choruses  
to follow all the doubt and sadness}_

Later that day, you see someone has texted you a photo. You assume that it's The Boyfriend showing you something Noah made at preschool or built with his Legos.  
Instead, it's a picture of Nick holding a fluffy puppy. Oddly enough, they both have the same gleeful expression on their faces. _[meet my new baby!!!]_

_[congrats! have you picked a name yet?]_

_[still thinking]_

_[is it a boy or girl?]_

_[you don't need to know, liv. I'm raising him without telling him his gender so he won't get hung up on stereotypes.]_

_[got it. but you're saying 'he', so that right there gives it away that he's male]_

_[Liv! he's a dog, he doesn't know pronouns]_

"Look at the nice doggy your tio has," you say to Noah that evening, showing him the picture on your phone. "He has one blue eye and one brown eye. Isn't that pretty?"

Noah gets down on all fours and starts barking, shaking his butt like he's wagging a tail. "You mean Nick didn't end up taking home every dog in the shelter?" The Boyfriend asks. 

"I know he was tempted. But this one was special because he's missing one of his back legs. See?" You hold out your phone so that he can see one of the dozen pictures you'd been sent in the last few hours. "So they both have a little bit of a limp. Nick says they can understand each other."

The Boyfriend frowns, watching you carefully. "Are you _crying_?"

"What? No. Of course not."

"You _are_! Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, fine," you scoff, brushing the back of your hand over your eyes. "It's sweet, okay? Mock me all you want."

Your son-turned-puppy has stopped barking and started singing Joy To The World. His preschool is in full holiday mode, and he's seemed to memorize every song on the Christmas-themed Pandora station that they listen to during free time.

You, on the other hand, are a bit of a Scrooge who doesn't like most Christmas carols. (You've learned to keep this opinion to yourself, because people who hear it look at you like you've just admitted that you eat kittens.) So when he first came home bursting with yuletide cheer, you were gritting your teeth, but with time you've started to enjoy it. It makes you a proud momma to hear all that he's learned, even if you know he has no clue what 'let heaven and nature sing' actually means. 

"Hey Noah," The Boyfriend says, reaching for your phone. "Do you want to sing for your sister?"

"Sister dere," Noah informs him as he crawls over to you and pats your belly.

"She is! She's right there in my tummy. What are you doing, hon?"

The Boyfriend grins. "You're never going to get around to sending out Christmas cards, let's face it-"

"You don't know that!" You’ve been meaning to get them done since Halloween, but _Step 1: buy cards_ is still unchecked on your to-do list.

"Yeah, I do. And that's alright. No one really reads them anyway. So I thought we'll get a video of Noah singing a Christmas song for the baby and then just email that to everyone."

"Who are you, and what have you done with-"

"I sing! I sing!" Noah's perched on your lap, bouncing with excitement. 

"See? Two to one, you're outvoted," The Boyfriend says. "What are you gonna sing, little man?"

"Deckhalls!"

"Okay, sing nice and loud so we can hear you," he instructs. Noah is all too happy to comply, especially when it comes to the 'falalalala' part. When he finishes the song, The Boyfriend motions to you to keep Noah in your lap. "Who were you singing to, Noah?"

"Sister."

"And where is sister?" Noah suddenly gets shy, ducking his head away from the camera as he kisses your bump. "That's very nice, buddy. Can you say merry Christmas to everyone?"

"Mer' Christmas, erryone," he repeats before he decides he's had enough of performing and takes off toward the kitchen. 

Your daughter, who seems to have been resting all evening, responds with a flurry of kicks. Did she know this mini-concert was for her? Is she already a music lover like her big brother?

The Boyfriend notices the faraway smile on your face. "You okay?"

"Perfect," you assure him, because it really is. The Christmas lights are sparkling, reflecting off of the snow frosted windows, and the whole apartment smells like pine trees and cinnamon. You're with your amazing boyfriend, listening to your precious son singing while your baby is safe and happy in your belly. You turn toward The Boyfriend, and just as your eyes meet...

**_crash!_**

"Awfer CHRIST'S SAKE!" you hear a tiny voice shout from inside the nursery.

So much for your perfect moment.

_{be an optimist instead  
and somehow happiness will find you}_

Thank God Noah was a sound sleeper.

Even though sometimes you were amazed by the things he'd manage to sleep through, like two garbage trucks colliding directly below his window, the thought still occurred to you that maybe you should try a little harder to keep it down.

"Fuck!" Or, you know, maybe not. It was impossible to stay quiet when you felt like this, when The Boyfriend had you pinned against the wall and he'd just captured one of your nipples in his mouth. He was pressed up against you, lifting your legs so they were wrapped around his waist, and you were amazed at how he was managing this without your belly getting in the way.

You're bumping against the wall every time he drives into you, but Noah still slumbers on in the next room. You know that tomorrow you'll have bruises on your back, on your hips and your wrists where he was holding onto you, and you'll feel tired and sore in all the best ways. Just like you did when he tied you up, and just like you do now when a chunk of your hair gets trapped between his hand and the wall.

"Shit, I didn't mean to pull it," he says when you feel the tug on your scalp and groan loudly. "Sorry, I'll-" 

"No, no. Stop."

He misinterprets the urgency in your voice, gently setting you back down on your feet. "Damnit, what's wrong? Do you wanna lie down? Are you-"

"I'm fine," you promise as you step in front of him and sink to your knees. "You just reminded me of something we've never done before."

"Liv, what're you..."

"I'll give you one guess." You lean forward and your tongue darts out of your mouth, laving over the head of his cock. "Now, if I'm gonna do this for you, you'd better pull my hair."

That first lick must have been convincing, because he wastes no time in sinking his hands into your brunette locks. You swallow him down, moaning when he hits the back of your throat, and his hips automatically jerk forward as a reaction to the vibrations around his dick.

"Do it. Fuck my-"

"Olivia Benson," says Fin. Wait- _Fin?_ What the hell is he doing here?

And then you're not in your bedroom anymore. You're not even in your apartment. You're in the cribs, lying on your side in a bottom bunk, with Fin watching you from the doorway.

"Why'm I..." You try to swing your legs to the side of the bed and stand up quickly, but your belly and your general sense of disorientation leave you flailing around on your back with your limbs in the air like a flipped-over crab.

"Hey, take it easy, I've got you." Fin comes to your rescue, although not without snickering a little as he does. "How 'bout you sit here for a second? I don't want you falling on your ass because your knees gave out." 

"What's going on?" you ask, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand tiredly. You remember coming here to lie down for a few minutes after lunch because your back was hurting. Then somehow you ended up at home in your bedroom with The Boyfriend and...oh. Shit.

"Your man and Noah stopped by to say hi, so I said I'd come get you. They're in your office talking with Carisi."

"Wow, okay." Your drowsiness has worn off, leaving you with an entirely different sensation located directly between your legs. You're trying not to squirm and Fin's trying not to laugh. "What's so funny?"

He gives up, the sound of his laughter echoing against the concrete walls. "I'm not gonna ask what you were dreamin' about-"

"Thank y-"

"But anyone ever tell you that you talk in your sleep?" He shakes his head, still snickering. "You've got a dirty mouth, Sergeant!" 

You shove him playfully before you get up and head toward the door, trying to think about things that aren't sex with 'your man'. It's not easy. When you first got pregnant and were reading everything you could get your hands on, you saw plenty of information about how pregnancy hormones could affect your sex drive for better or worse. Your OB had warned you that it was normal if you went through periods where you were simply too tired and uncomfortable to have any interest in it.

And you _were_ uncomfortable, what with the heartburn and leg cramps and near-constant backache from lugging around a baby that seemed to grow heavier by the hour. You were also exhausted from working full time and chasing after a toddler while simultaneously growing another human. But lastly, mostly, you were horny. Even when you were so wiped out at day's end that you barely had the energy to lift a toothbrush, your mind and your lady parts were focused on one thing. It was cruel. It was like taunting a hungry dog with the aroma of a juicy steak- until the dog nodded off on the toilet when it got up to pee for the fifth time that night. What a weird dog.

"Mooooom!" Noah shouted as soon as he saw you come into view, running in your direction and very nearly colliding with a homicide sergeant who happened to be passing by.

"Noah, baby, you've gotta watch where you're going," you chide him gently, looking up at the other officer as you bend down to give your son a hug. "Sorry about that, Sergeant Price."

"He needs to learn not to run indoors! You know what the punishment for running inside my grammy's house was? She'd wake you up for a five mile run at dawn! It only took once, and we learned our lesson."

"I'll...keep that in mind." You stand up slowly, offering Noah your hand to hold as you walk back toward your office. "What are you and Daddy doing here?"  
"Cinnabun roll!"

Sure enough, The Boyfriend was standing in front of your desk holding a bakery box with two freshly baked cinnamon rolls in it. "Thought you could probably use a treat."

"Oh _God_." Between the smell of frosted pastries and your still ongoing hormone rush, you were so enamored with him at that moment that you didn't know if you should marry him, fuck him, or both. "I am so in love with you right now..."

"S'prise!" Noah reminded you, climbing onto your desk chair and looking very official as if he was about to challenge Dodds Jr. for a spot as your number two. 

"Yes, I'm very surprised. Did you get these after Daddy came to pick you up from school?" He babbled on for a few minutes about his class Christmas party, and you purposely kept your back to The Boyfriend to keep yourself under control. "You know what, little man? How about you go say hi to Fin for a second while I talk to Dad?" 

"Unka Fin!" Noah calls out, charging into the squadroom. Lately he thinks that 'Uncle Fin' is just about the coolest guy on the planet (especially when he let him "help" play video games), and Fin is all too happy to oblige when it comes to spoiling him.

Once you make sure Fin's keeping an eye on him, you close the blinds on your office windows and give The Boyfriend a predatory look. "So."

"Before you can say it, I'm not here to fuck you." 

"But-"

"Not that I've never thought about doing it here..." He looks around the room, rubbing his chin like he's sizing up all the potential locations, then wraps his arms around you from behind. "How are my girls? Were you napping?"

"Resting my eyes," you correct him.

"Sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. It's just my back." You take his hands and put them right above your belly button. "She's kicking a lot today. I wish you could feel it."

"Soon," he says, kissing the crown of your head.

"Want to know about the dream I just had?"

"Lemme guess. It involves you sitting on Santa's lap?"

"No. I don't like guys with beards," you say, reaching back and giving his a little tug. He's still refusing to shave it until the baby comes, and on the rare occasions that you're not having sex dreams, you have nightmares about having to give birth alone because the hospital security staff won't let in that grossly unkempt homeless guy who says he's your boyfriend. 

"Yeah you do." He takes a step sideways so that you're now facing the wall and he's still behind you. "You love me," he says in a low, smooth tone, kissing the back of your neck from your shoulder up to your hairline, "and you want me to fuck you right here, beard and all, because you're a dirty girl."

"Fuck," you whine, squeezing your thighs together. You're so turned on right now that it's kinda embarrassing, considering that you're at work and your whole squad, plus your son, is just outside your office door. "I do."

"That wouldn't be very professional, would it?" He's nuzzling that spot behind your ear, his left hand on your hip and his right hand covering yours. When you try to move so that your ass would be nestled against his crotch, he catches onto what you're attempting and steps back, smacking your ass gently. "No. You're not getting any."

You give him your best seductive smile. "You could spank me again, but-"

"I said no," and damn him for making rejection sound so sexy. "Go eat your cinnamon roll, get some work done, all that...and you can tell me about your dream tonight." He picks up your phone and holds it out at arms' length, leaning in and pressing his lips to your temple. "Smile!"

"What are-" you sputter as the flash goes off, grabbing the phone out of his hand. It's actually a cute picture of him, which is a rarity because he's so camera shy, but you've got your eyes closed and nose scrunched up with your mouth open in mid-protest. "What'd you do that for?"

He shrugs, tapping the screen a few times to set the picture as your new home screen. "Something to remember me by."


End file.
